The Rise of One
by Mrs Pettyfer
Summary: It began with twelve. Now it's up to one. Sequel to The Black Games. [CH 23 NOW UPDATED 4/22/13]
1. The Day After Tomorrow

******Category: **Avatar: Last Airbender

******Author:** Mrs Pettyfer

******Title: **The Rise of One

******Pairing(s):** Multiple pairings that you will just have to wait to see ;)

**Genre: **Adventure/Angst/Romance

**Rating:** M - to be safe. For dark themes, violence, and light language. No lemons.

**A/N:** Welcome to the sequel of The Black Games! If you have not read that, I _highly_ encourage you do because this won't make quite as much sense. ;) I am really excited to dive into the second installment with you guys. Your support gave me that spark to make TBG into a trilogy so thank you for that! The plot is not exactly like Catching Fire, but there will be some similar elements. I'm expecting this to be about 20-25 chapters.

**Disclaimer:** The Avatar world and characters belong to Mike Dante DiMartino and Bryan Konietzko. The Hunger Games belongs to Suzanne Collins. Both inspired me to write this story.

* * *

**in·sur·gent - **/ɪnˈsɜrdʒənt/ Show Spelled[in-**sur**-j_uh_nt] _**noun **_

_**Origin: **_ 1755–65; Latin _insurgent- _ (stem of _insurgēns _) present participle of _insurgere _ to get up, ascend, rebel. See in-2 , surge, -ent

**1. **A person who rises in forcible opposition to lawful authority, especially a person who engages in armed resistance to a government or to the execution of its laws; rebel.

**Prologue - Insurgent**

My dad used to say that often we only do what we think is expected of us, unaware that we are capable of so much more. I never really understood what he meant, though, because I always assumed we did everything to our own capabilities.

But that was before the Black Games.

I didn't know my own capabilities until I was put to the test. Until I was pushed beyond my own comfortable limits. Pushed and pushed until I broke. Except I didn't let myself break, even when it would have been easy to do so.

My name is Katara, the girl who wore water, and I am the victor of the 75th Annual Black Games. At least, that's what everyone keeps saying. Victor. Winner. Champion. But I don't feel like any of those things. The finer details are left out—that in order to be the victor you have to lose everything. Family. Friendship. Love. Doesn't sound much like a victor, does it?

I lost pieces of my soul in that arena. Somewhere along the way I lost the ability to discern the truth from lies, reality and fantasy. I bled, I cried, I fought, I ran, I hid, I lied, I loved, I killed. I became someone I had no idea I could be because I had to. I don't even remember the girl I used to be before the Games. She's there, I suppose, hidden beneath an icy plane. I don't know if she can find her way to the surface again. I wish I could feel guilty about some of the things I did in the Games, but somehow I feel like I'm betraying myself if I do. If I had done some things differently, I might not be alive today. I can't let myself believe in regrets—that's what everyone keeps telling me. They say I'll never be able to live if I do.

And that would be an insult to my brother. He told me to win, and I did. He never believed in accidents or mistakes, and if he was here now, he'd remind me of that.

I guess he has a point.

I didn't win the Black Games on accident, and I didn't win by making mistakes. I won because I went as far as I could go, and then I kept going. Because every time I fell, I stood back up. Tell me to jump, I'll say how high. Tell me to run, I'll say how far. Tell me I can't do something, I'll prove you wrong. Tell me to surrender, and I'll say never.

I won because the twenty three other tributes couldn't keep me down. And neither can the Capital. Winning didn't make me cherish my life more. It made me want to fight for it again. Not just for me, but for everyone I love—the ones who are here, and the ones that have moved on to a better place. For all of the Fire Nation. We deserve freedom. And I'm going to give it to them. Or I'll die trying.

I am a believer. A law breaker. A rebel.

I am an insurgent.

* * *

"And now I know my place.

We're all just pieces in their games." – _Just a Game_, Birdy

**Chapter 1 - The Day After Tomorrow**

Tomorrow at dusk, I'm supposed to say goodbye. I'm supposed to stand back like a good girl, remain silent, and let destiny take its course, while the prince of the Fire Nation goes up in flames. I'm not supposed to struggle, to ask for more time, or do anything that might disrupt thousands of years of tradition at the Capital.

Unfortunately for them though, I was never one to do what I'm _supposed_ to do.

It's early at Caldera City, the sun rising just behind the looming cliff mountains of Province One. I stay hidden beneath a dark cloak as I move quietly through the golden lit streets. I'm careful not to draw attention, keeping to the shadows and skirting along the sides of buildings. A hand instinctively presses against my pocket, concealing a rolled up piece of parchment that I've read and analyzed so much the ink is starting to fade.

There is no address on the letter. No signature, either. But I knew it was for me when I found it, slipped under my door. It's simple and short, straight to the point.

_I know what you did. I know your secret and I know how to help. You cannot wish to save Prince Zuko alone and you have little time. Meet me at the Black Jade in Caldera City just after dawn the day after tomorrow. Ask for Mo and show him what I have disclosed. Make sure you are not followed. _

I haven't shown the letter to any of my team and I'll need to be back before they notice I'm missing. I know I probably should have told someone I'm trekking through the city, but I guess I'm confident that I can handle myself if I run into trouble. Besides, I don't think anyone would understand _why_ I'm doing it in the first place—how could I even try to explain myself? Of course, it's occurred to me that this might be a trick or a trap, but I'm so desperate that I have no other choice. What do I have to lose, anyway, that I haven't lost already?

By tomorrow night, Prince Zuko will be burned on the pyre at the Royal Plaza and I'll have no choice but to accept that he is gone. That he's never coming back. But see, that's the problem. I'm not ready to accept that. I still cling to hope, latching on to it with all my strength; irrational it may be, but there it is.

So here I am, sneaking past Guards and lurking through the city, following the instructions of an anonymous tip that may or may not lead to my demise. After the things I've seen, I'm not even afraid. I'm afraid of what will become of me if I watch Zuko go up in flames. That scares me far more than any other assassin or conspirator ever could.

The people of the Capital are early risers so the streets are crowded enough that I don't stand out. The Guards are a little lax around these parts, considering Caldera City is our National Capital, right in the heart of Province One. The people of Province One live and bathe in luxury. They're trained in the arts of fighting—both benders and non-benders alike—and do not have to worry about such things as finding scraps for supper or worrying about the hot water. These people are the wealthiest of our nation, hardly having a care in the world.

So naturally, you would think I really wouldn't need to bother about sneaking around. Who really cares about a sixteen year old girl from Province Nine? Well, a few months ago I wouldn't have to take such precautions as keeping to the shadows, but now the entire nation knows my name and face.

Just two days ago, I was crowned the victor of the 75th Annual Black Games and was presented to the Capital. My team and I sat through a tortuous recap of the Games and I had to watch my brother die, again, and was reminded of how I could not stop it from happening. I watched Aang's life get taken away in a flash of light. Again. But the worst was watching myself and the things I did. Almost every brutal and horrible memory was resurfaced, opening up the wounds I keep trying to heal, as if the nightmares aren't bad enough already. The healers tell me the nightmares and memories will eventually fade, but then I say, _"How can you know if you weren't in the Black Games?"_

They have no answer to that.

I find the Black Jade and a tinkle of a bell goes off when I step inside. The walls are made of dark wood, the tables round and small, with mismatching chairs. Waiters wearing white aprons weave through the tables, pouring cups of hot steaming tea for the customers. No money is thrown on the table, so the tea must be complimentary. We don't have places like this to eat back at home, and tea is most certainly not free. In my world, nothing comes without a price. Seeing the chatting customers makes my fists clench at my side, resentment building up in me so fast it almost surprises me.

"Can I help you?" a voice calls from the counter, and thankfully saves me from doing something stupid. I keep my face down, my hood carefully concealing it, and move toward the front of the shop. No one even bothers to look at me. Good.

Without looking at the man behind the counter, I slid the small, round token I received with the letter and say, "I'm looking for Mo."

"Ah," says the man, pushing the tile back toward me after a swift glance. "Follow me, please." I pocket the tile and follow him through the back door, up a staircase, and into a room that sits over the Black Jade. "Wait here," he orders.

I walk around the tiny room, restless, unable to sit, even though there's a table with two welcoming chairs. A potted plant sits in a corner, the sweetness mixing with the musky scent of wood. I can't help but think this is some type of meeting room. It's much too scarce to be someone's house, and the only furniture is the table and chairs. No pictures. No bed. No wardrobe. Only a steaming teapot and two empty tea cups sit on the table. A tiny circular window reveals the crowded streets below; I can hear children laughing. The sound is like shattering glass to my ears.

Thankfully, the door cracks open before I lose my mind; out of instinct I whirl around defensively. A dark cloaked figure steps into the room. Male. Not quite as tall as my dad. Older. Slightly overweight.

My hand flies to my hip, ready to whip out the water if necessary, but the man holds up his hands in a sign of peace and then slowly slides off his hood.

"Lady Katara," says the man. He gives me the official bow of the Capital. "Thank you for meeting me."

I stare for a moment, and then clamp my gaping mouth shut. "General Iroh? _You_ wrote me the letter?"

"Ah, so I did." He smiles, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. His pale face is lined with age, and shadows paint under his soft gold eyes. Another cloaked figure steps into the room, pulls down the hood, and I actually gasp this time.

It's the General _and_ Prince Lu Ten.

Iroh takes a seat at the table and gestures for me to do the same. "Would you care for some tea?"

I blink in surprise. Somehow I find myself taking a seat, but I can't take my eyes off the General, too stunned and wary to trust him just yet. Are we really about to have tea?

Lu Ten just crosses his arms and leans against the closed door, watching silently. His presence is already making me jumpy and uncomfortable. I have not missed his dislike for me—nor can I blame him.

"I promise it is not poisoned," says Iroh, noticing my hesitancy. "If I was going to poison someone, I would not ruin a perfectly brewed pot of Ginseng tea to do so." He pours steaming brown liquid into a white chipped cup methodically, taking great care in the simple act. "Lu Ten does not care for Ginseng. It's hard to believe we are related."

"You sent in the phoenix tears," I blurt out suddenly. "And the food." _And a bunch of other things. _"I—it saved me. Us."

"You saved yourself, Lady Katara. And I was only the messenger," he says. He holds out the pot to me in question. More out of manners than anything else, I snatch the remaining cup and allow him to pour me some tea. "The sponsors were responsible for purchasing the gifts."

He's uncharacteristically humble. I don't expect that. My eyes shift to Lu Ten nervously, but he's still expressionless and watchful.

"Well, thank you," I say, and bring the cup to my lips. I blow cool breath over the rim of the cup before taking a small sip. It's spicier than I expect, but still very sweet and warm. Tasty.

"Thank _you_ for saving my nephew's life," Iroh says gently, looking and sounding both sympathetic and nowhere near as angry as I anticipated.

"I also ended it." The words fly out before I can stop myself. The reminder is so painful it's like I've been slapped in the face with fire.

"I do not think he would see it that way."

_How can he not?_

"I didn't want to kill him," I whisper. "Either of them."

The look on the General's face only fuels my torment. It's soft and kind—forgiving, even. The way my dad looks at every animal he kills, just after he strikes a spear through it. Pity. Sympathy. Sorrow.

How can he possibly look like this to the person who killed part of his family? How is he strong enough to do that?

"I know," Iroh says gently. "My neice and nephew—"

"I can save him," I blurt out suddenly.

I can hear Lu Ten shifting at the door. Maybe he's surprised by my omission? The General stares at me with barely concealed neutralism, and only now do I see how hard it is for him to remain calm and collected. I think he's doing it for my sake rather than his own. And this, more than anything, even despite the fact that Lu Ten is here, allows my harboring secret to finally seep out.

"I—I have special healing water from the spirit oasis," I whisper. Pure, irrational desperation colors my words, and suddenly I don't care how I sound. "I got it before the Games. I've been waiting to use it and I…I think this is what it's meant for. To bring Zuko back."

"Yes," says Iroh, surprising me. "I suspected you were up to something when I saw you lurking through the palace corridors. The black cloak is ever suspicious."

I flush in embarrassment and look away. "I was going to try, but there were Guards everywhere."

"Where did you get something like that? People don't just rise from the dead." Lu Ten says suddenly, not bothering to hide his skepticism. There's something else in his tone, something I recognize. The implication is clear.

I shift in my seat, giving him a nasty look, and tell him exactly what he expects. "I stole it from the spirit world," I say mockingly.

"Wouldn't be the first thing you've taken."

I start to rise from my chair. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Lu Ten, that is enough," Iroh scolds. He doesn't raise his voice, but he might as well have with that tone. The prince looks away, his jaw tightening. The gesture is so similar to Zuko that it momentarily jars me. They don't really look alike—Lu Ten is shorter and stockier than Zuko, and his hair is pulled up in a top knot and seemingly longer. But their mannerisms are similar.

Iroh turns back to me. "My apologies, Lady Katara. Lu Ten has forgotten his hospitality and manners. As for your nightly crusades through the corridors, it was a good effort, but you were searching in the wrong place. You would not find Prince Zuko in his bedchamber. He is in protective care in one of our healing wings. His body must be preserved…" Iroh's voice trails off painfully. I swallow hard, wishing he would stop, but knowing this conversation has to happen. "Unless you are royalty and in relation to Prince Zuko, you will not be permitted to enter the wing."

"What if I go in with you?"

"And then what? You must learn to think ahead, as I often tell my nephew." The General takes a casual sip from his cup; I mirror him just to do something with my numb hands. "I have heard stories of the magical properties of the spirit oasis, but I cannot say I have seen the truth myself. Even if this water possesses such power, and you were able to bring Prince Zuko back, then what happens? The world saw him die." He tips his chin to me. "Saw you kill him. How do you explain bringing him back?"

And just like that, the ground drops from beneath me. Truthfully, I haven't thought that much ahead. I just thought I could bring Zuko back and everything would be fine. I suppose the world doesn't work like that, does it? You can't simply end a life and then take it back, expecting no consequences.

"His father is the Fire Lord," I say, frustrated. "Since when has Fire Lord Ozai felt obligated to owe the world an explanation for anything?"

I clamp my mouth shut and look away, slightly horrified that I've just insulted the brother to the man that sits before me, someone who has clearly gone out on a limb to talk to me. I sneak a glance, tentatively, but Iroh does not look offended. He simply pours himself more tea, and when he looks up at me, his expression is soft.

"My father created the Black Games many years ago, before you were born."

"As a punishment for the Day of Black Sun," I interrupt bitterly. "I know."

"Yes, and no," Iroh reasons. "Do you know why there is a victor, Lady Katara?"

I open my mouth, ready to spit out an obvious retort, and then close it. Why wouldn't there be a victor? It's a game. Someone has to win, right? Every game as a winner and a loser. In this case, twenty-three losers.

"Hope," the General clarifies softly. "It is the only thing in this world that is stronger than fear. If my father simply wanted to punish the provinces, he would have called forth twenty four tributes to be executed every year. There would be no need for the Black Games at all."

I blink at him, not exactly sure where he's going with this. Iroh sets down his cup and leans forward, folding his arms on the table in front of him.

"Let me ask you this: why did you fight in the Games? Why not refuse?" he asks.

"Because…I wanted to go home," I say simply. "I wanted to win."

"Because you were presented with the _opportunity_ to win," he corrects. "The odds were not high, but it was enough hope for you to fight. If there was no victor, how could the Games exist? Why would the tributes fight if no one could win?"

"So you're saying your father did this to give the people _hope_?" I say, completely confounded.

"If there was no hope in this world, then no one would feel the need to fight."

"And what's so bad about that? Isn't that what we should strive for? Peace and no fighting?"

Iroh gives me a thoughtful look. "It is not the fighting, Lady Katara, but the _reasons_, that matter. If you had no will to fight, I suspect you would not be here, trying to find a way to save my nephew."

I stare at him, my chest aching. So what? What's his point?

Iroh sighs. "If the world loses the hope and desire to fight for what they believe in—for their desires, their beliefs—it will be a very sad place."

"Is it not already?" I whisper. Iroh gives me a weak, knowing smile.

I sit back in my seat. Iroh's words, hearing them phrased this way, make sense, but I just can't understand why this man is the one speaking them to me. A man who is the son of the Fire Lord who created the Black Games, the current brother of the tyrant of our nation.

"My brother, like my father before me, believes the way to control the world is with a little hope and unquestionable fear. The world fears my brother far more than they hold out hope, but they have enough hope left in them to fight in the Games."

"So what would happen if everyone just decided not to fight? All twenty four tributes just said no?"

"The likelihood of that is very slim, but if that were to happen, I suspect the arena would be manipulated so they are forced to fight or die," Iroh says simply. "And the winnings for the victor are too great to turn down. Imagine how your province would feel if they knew you deliberately threw away a chance to bring them better fortune."

Suddenly I feel sick. The Capital purposely keeps us on a tight rope, cutting back our resources, so we're able to skirt by with the bare minimum. If we were all living in luxury, we wouldn't need the winnings so much. They've backed us into a corner with only one escape—to fight in the Games so we can win. But what of the Fire Provinces? They are not as poor and sick as we are. Their motives for winning must clearly be different. Is it like Zuko said? About honor and pride? Either way it doesn't matter. In the end, we're all trapped and caged. Our motivations might be different but every tribute that fights is somebody's daughter or son. We are the victims. All of us.

I look back at the General, expressionless. "So what do you suggest I do? I don't even know if this spirit water will work. But I have to try. Can't—wouldn't Fire Lord Ozai _want_ his son back?"

"If my brother knew of your plans, he would have you use the water on Princess Azula," Iroh says softly, stunning me into silence. "In fact, he will probably be very angry if you save Zuko instead of her." My expression must be horrified because the General gives me a gentle smile.

"I will not try to explain Ozai to you, for he is a mystery even to me. But I do know that if you do this, you will be traveling down a dark path that no one but you can go. There will be no turning back, and I do not know how many bridges will be burned along the way. You are entering uncharted waters and playing with fate, Lady Katara, and the spirits are not to be reckoned with."

He's given me too many metaphors but I think I get the picture.

"Look, I have this water." My voice starts to tremble. "And maybe it's stupid and won't work, but if it doesn't, well—" my voice breaks off miserably, and all I can manage now is a whisper. "—he's dead anyway, isn't he? Too many people have died so I can live. Zuko saved me and I have to try to save him if I can. I can't just _not_ try. The world needs their prince back._ I_ need him back…"

I feel like I'm choking, or being strangled. I can't' talk anymore or I'm going to cry. So I look away, focusing on the chipped crimson paint of the walls. Ever since I won the Games I've tried to numb my feelings, sealing them shut so I don't have to feel. Talking about all this is reopening the wounds, and I'm afraid if I keep talking, I'll never be able to seal them shut again.

It's so dangerous to hope. When you do, it makes it so much harder when you're let down. But then I see Zuko's face. You can't just forget about the face of your last hope.

I can feel Iroh and Lu Ten looking at me but I just can't look up yet. What they must think of me. What I feel for Zuko can't even compare to what they must feel. I don't know anything about the prince. I don't know his favorite foods, or stories, or how he likes his tea. I don't know anything about his past, his dreams—nothing. None of these things that his uncle and cousin must know. All I know is how Zuko operates. I know how he moves, when he's deep in thought, when he's not going to budge in an argument.

I know how he _works_. I just don't know how he _is_.

"Do not make the mistake of thinking you are the only one who wishes he was still alive," Lu Ten says in a low, cold voice.

"Lu Ten," Iroh warns.

I shake my head. "I didn't mean—"

"Because you're not."

I look up, and our eyes lock. "I know. And I'm sorry."

Lu Ten scoffs and pushes himself off the door. "No, you're not. You won, didn't you?"

I jump to my feet, enraged. "Don't act like you're the only one who lost someone in that arena! I lost my brother! I watched him die and there was _nothing_ I could do about it! I held his body as he was dying, bleeding away before my eyes. How is that _winning_ when I have to live with that for the rest of my life?"

The room falls into silence. Lu Ten looks away. Maybe it's a trick of the light, but his face seems to soften just a little.

"I'm not proud of what I've done but I'm trying to do something right about it. I'm trying to _save_ one of your cousins," I say to the prince, heatedly. My fist slams down on the table; Iroh jumps in surprise, and my cup of tea spills over. "You can think whatever you want of me, I don't care. This water didn't appear for me when I wanted it to. I _couldn't_ use it on my brother. I'm not about to waste it now. I will try to save Zuko with or without your help. I owe him to try."

I slump back into my chair, pulling at my hair, suddenly drained. This is the most emotion I've let myself feel in days, and it's exhausting.

"And if it doesn't work…" I just can't afford to think like that. I look up and glance between Iroh and Lu Ten. "Are you going to help me or do I have to blow apart your palace to find Zuko on my own?"

Iroh chuckles. "I do not think that will be necessary."

"What you're talking about is impossible," the prince says to me.

"It's only impossible if I don't try," I say.

We're silent for a long moment. I'm back on my feet again, my fists clenched at my sides. I thought this meeting was to _help_ me. This is just a waste of my time.

"You really think you can do this." Lu Ten fixes me with a hard stare. "You really think this...blessed water will bring him back?"

"I don't know," I say honestly. "But I'm willing to find out. Willing to take the risks and the consequences. I'll take it all."

"It is easy to see why my nephew cares for you so," Iroh says gently. I flush at his statement. "Although I was not in the arena, I was still able to see. And I saw enough to know what you mean to him. It is nice to see those feelings are finally reciprocated."

_Finally_? What does that mean?

"I would do anything in my power to have my nephew back again." The General sighs. "But…I am not so sure it is _in_ my power. It is you who possess the water, and only you who can use it."

Despair threatens to pull me under, but I won't let it. "You can't help me?"

Iroh shakes his head. "Not in the ways you will require."

"Then why are you here?"

Lu Ten steps forward. "Because I know someone who can."

* * *

**A/N:** Thank you for reading! Hope you liked it! I'd like to point something out: for those who read This Is My Idea, you can probably figure out Lu Ten is different in this story. He has good reason to not trust Katara entirely, so I hope you guys don't give him too much heat. :P And by the way, the **trailer** for this story is now up! Check it out on my profile. :)

**EDIT:** I combined the prologue and chapter one. I was getting the chapters all confused, lol.

**Review Responses:**

**iLovelyJulz: "I'm also wondering if you'll be coming up with your own OC's since a lot important characters- umm, passed away during the Black Games."** - So far there is one main OC-besides Lu Ten. The rest of the characters that will be the main cast are secondary character's in the actual series. :)

**"And will you be introducing us to a Finnick-like character?"** - Yes! He is inspired by Finnick. :)

**nerdimaddi: "I can't beleive you killed Zuko. I really didn't think you would do it."** - Lol I think I shocked a lot of people with that one. There was just no way Katara could have healed him in that arena. The aftermath would have been much worse than it is already.

**"the relationship between Katara and Zuko is by far, one of the best ones i've ever read."** - Thank you! It's very different from any that I've written. The just of their relationship is really based on co-dependency. They use one another as a crutch in some ways. Katara's relationship with him is very similar to how she felt with Sokka-but of course, she is actually attracted to Zuko, lol. But it's that same feeling-that comfort, equality, trust, co-dependency.

**ShipperBody: "You're going to add Korra on this?"** - Negative, just some similar concepts! Technically with the timeline of this story, it would be about the time of Legend of Korra. But I don't want it that advanced technology wise.

**PrudishPerversions: "I'm already being torn apart internally by Makorra feels"** - Oh my Makorra feels are exploding after this saturday episode. They are perfect together.

**Nostalgia: "But I am a little worried; the story isn't Katara/Zuko, but just Katara"** - I did this on purpose! lol Right now Zuko is not alive, so he can't be a main character, can he? If he is able to be brought back, then I will change it. But I want everyone to keep all options open right now. :)

**Random Reader: "If Katara plans on reviving Zuko, who would also have been experiencing (well, not exactly- his lifeless body couldn't really "experience" much) problems with decay and threat of cremation, /even/ if it didn't work out...Couldn't she also try reviving Sokka instead?** - Well, Sokka's body is back at Province 9 by now. And like Katara says in this chapter, she believes the water is meant to save Zuko. (There's also no way Katara could get back to Province 9 before Sokka is sent off) As far as decomposing, the Capital uses their skilled healers and advanced technology to keep Zuko relatively preserved. That might not be scientifically correct in our world, or not possible, but keep in mind this world with bending and "magic" isn't the norm so our rules don't really apply. :P

**A Flicker of Candlelight: "I will this entire story be centered around Katara? Or will there be different POV's?"** - It will all be in Katara's POV, unless she dies.

**Tiny Cherie: "I love how the prologue shows how much Katara changed-she didn't even remember the person she used to be."** - Yeah, and you know, I wouldn't say she's changed, she just forgot. She's very cold after everything that has happened..but that doesn't mean she can't thaw a little as time passes. :)


	2. The Metalbender

**A/N:** Early update for you guys because you're awesome! You'll notice that there are no character's listed in the description of this story. I decided to change that because I realized it could actually spoil those reading The Black Games. Just wanted to let you all know in case you noticed that change. Enjoy. :)

* * *

"A woman would run  
through fire and water for such a kind heart." - _William Shakespeare_

**Chapter 2 - The Metalbender**

I'm supposed to meet Lu Ten just before sunset. Apparently he still has to find this unknown person who is supposed to be helping me. Lu Ten still hasn't given me a name, but I guess I have no choice but to trust him. I don't really trust him at all, actually, but I do trust Iroh.

I've just finished dinner and now June is fitting me for my dress that I'm supposed to wear to the funeral tomorrow. Just thinking about it makes me hurt. The weight of everything just pushes me down. June has to constantly remind me to straighten up.

"You okay?" she asks, slipping a sheer piece of fabric over my head.

"Fine," I say automatically, relying on a safe word. Most people don't question the word _fine_.

"I'd believe you if you weren't such a terrible liar." Her fingers work maticulously through the white fabric. White and gold, the colors of mourning. She pauses suddenly from her work, and then tugs at my skirts. "Yeah well, I'm no good with advice but I'm here if you just need someone to listen."

I nod silently, and the only sound is the needle slicing through fabric. Then, June's words echo in my mind. Maybe I need to tell someone—someone who isn't the uncle of the prince, someone I might consider a friend. After my recovery, Lady Su told me how important it is that I don't lock away my emotions; that I feel comfortable talking about what happened in the Games. She asked me some questions after that, some of which made me very uncomfortable because they hurt to think about. I tried to get through that as quickly as possible, but maybe she was right. Maybe it isn't healthy to keep everything to myself.

I take a deep breath, dropping my gaze to the floor. "If you had the ability to bring back Prince Zuko, how would you go about doing it?" I ask.

June freezes. She's bent down behind me, working on the back of the silky white dress, but I can feel her shock, the way the needle stops moving. I don't even need to see her face to know what it looks like. But when she finally speaks, it's in her usual cool, aloof voice.

"I'd do it in front of everyone," she says. "The Capital is full of secrets, Katara. Saving the prince is not something that should be kept a secret. This way the Fire Lord couldn't punish me."

The fact that she thinks the Fire Lord would want to punish someone who brings his son back to life is frightening. It reminds me of what Iroh said. The same implications are there: that Ozai would not be happy if I chose Zuko and not Azula.

"So you'd do it at the funeral?" I ask.

"Oh no. I'd do it before, but I'd set up a feed that went out to all the screens. The Capital is full of them—most of the citizens have them in their homes. It's not _that_ hard to do. Just a bit of hacking and re-routing."

My heart sinks. Sokka is the one who could _maybe_ figure out how to do that. Me? I have no idea how the technology works here. Once again I'm cruelly reminded of how much I wish Sokka was still here. I touch my chest, half expecting to feel a hole punctured through. I don't think this pain will ever go away. I feel so alone without him here, and I don't see how that could ever change.

June looks up suddenly, meeting my gaze in the mirror. Her eyes are shadowed with deep purple powder, her lips painted ruby red. Her expression is completely hard and serious, making her look a bit frightening. "There would be consequences for doing such a thing," she says. "Hacking into their system would not go unpunished. But if the prince was saved, the Fire Lord could only do so much."

"Good to know," I say numbly. "I'll keep that in mind."

June pauses again. I can tell she wants to give me some sort of warning, maybe question my sanity, I don't know. "Well," she finally says, "Also keep in mind that if someone _were_ to do this, they would need to know in advance, because it's a very time consuming. They also wouldn't do it for free, no matter if the person asking _is_ a victor. And they would not be held responsible."

My lips turn up into a small smile and I slouch forward, feeling a little relieved, and even better, I feel lighter, like some of the weight is taken off.

June shrugs and straightens my posture. "Just saying."

* * *

I don't realize how large Province One is—honestly, it's inside a crater, how big _can_ it be?—until we walk around what feels like the entire circumference. And wow, was I wrong—it's huge, filled with shops, markets, and red and gold roofed houses. Carriages line the streets, and several shining gold monorails zip above and through the city. Most of the homes near the palace are extravagant and huge, hidden behind tall stone and gold gates. Guards march through the streets, but it's nowhere near as intimidating as it is at home. Here, the Guards actually stop and talk to the Capital citizens. Back at home, we turn and go the opposite direction if we see a Guard coming our way.

As the prince and I get further and further away from the palace, the homes and buildings start to get smaller, built closer together. Iroh meets us behind a fancy spa—apparently it would be too risky for us to leave the palace together—and eventually we head toward the front gates. For a moment I fear we're actually leaving Province One, but Lu Ten takes an abrupt turn into a darker concealed alleyway. Everything about Caldera City glimmers, but there is something about this alley that feels ominous, like we're not in the glamorous section of the city anymore.

I find out I'm right.

Concealed under black cloaks, we slip into what Iroh says is the "lower ring." Apparently it's supposed to be the poorest part of the city, but I suppose my definition of _poor_ is different than the Capital's. Sure, the roofs aren't dipped in gold paint and there are no marble columns or gated homes, but it's still fancier than anything we have in Province Nine. The houses here in the lower ring are practically identical with red tiled rooftops and two small windows. Nearly ordinary. The streets, though, are crowded with bustling citizens, and when we step into a large square, it's even more crowded.

Tents and booths are set up around the square, merchants badgering customers to come see what they have to offer. A woman with heavy bangles and multicolored shaws dangling from her neck tries to sell me what looks like poisoned arrows. I ignore her and shuffle past, tugging on my hood.

Lu Ten finally stops in front of a tacky looking shop with mismatched windows. He reaches out and opens the door; loud music and chatter ring in my ears, along with the smell of something strong.

"I know he's here," says Lu Ten. He holds out the door for me and I duck inside.

The smell is even stronger now. Definitely not tea. A group of men huddle into a moderately sized crowd, holding up slips of paper that I can't quite read. They're shouting and cheering and booing; it takes me a second to realize they're watching a fight. Between two men, it looks like, based on their size. I can't see their faces from here.

Someone bumps into me from behind and I pitch forward. My hood almost flies off but I snatch it in time. The man—who now barrels past me, holding a mug filled with something bubbly—doesn't apologize. A sudden, gentle touch on my arm startles me.

How times have changed when being touched gently startles me more than being bumped into.

"Are you alright?" Iroh asks, and I nod at him. "Good. Keep your hood up. Lu Ten will get his attention while we wait."

_I'd rather wait outside_, I want to say. The loud noises and crowded room is almost too much for me to handle. Every time I hear a loud cheer, it somehow reminds me of a canon firing. I focus on keeping my breathing steady and count in my head—anything to keep me distracted.

The sound of physical brawling captures my attention. I can no longer stand just sitting here, waiting, so I grab a stool and step onto the bottom bar. One man has another in a headlock. The shadows are too dark in the room for me to have a good look at either of them. The man releases the other, and swings forward with a sloppy punch. He misses and the other—younger and taller, I'd guess, based on his fluidity—just laughs and dodges the blow.

"Can't have you damaging my face," the younger one says. His voice is smooth and cultured. "I don't know how to be ugly!"

The voice is vaguely familiar, like I've heard it before, or know someone who sounds similar, but I can't for the life of me place it. His hair conceals his face and he's moving too quickly, dodging and throwing punches, for me to get a glimpse of him in this light.

I can't help myself. I hop off the stool and move into the crowd before Iroh can stop me. I push my way through until I spot Lu Ten. He's standing just behind a tall man in a long brown coat. The prince's cloak makes him look like a looming shadow, dark and foreboding. I'm about to get his attention when I hear him sigh and murmur a single word:

"Enough."

My hand pauses, out stretched—how did he know I was here?—but then the younger man in the fight looks to Lu Ten, as though the prince was speaking to him. His eyes glow in the darkness, but I can't tell what color they are, and his dark hair messily obscures most of his face.

"Fine," says the younger man. His hands fly out and strike his opponent, square in the face, and then he leaps into the air and does a swift roundhouse kick to the older man's chest. He moves so fast, his hits so hard, that I actually flinch. The older man slams into a wall and slumps to the ground, knocked out.

The crowd erupts in cheering, fists pumping in excitement. I'm bumped and pushed away from Lu Ten during the commotion. I have to claw my way out of the mosh pit to get out of there. I actually elbow someone in the chest once out of annoyance—he did run into me _first_—and don't feel remotely bad about it. I just want out of here and if I don't get away, I might do some serious damage. I just can't handle all this movement and noise right now.

Iroh finds me and pulls me away from the crowd. We go through a wooden door that blends into the walls and down a corridor. The General stops outside a door, knocks twice, and then pushes it open. Lu Ten is already inside—how did he get here so fast?—and another tall figure is peeling a ripe, red apple with a sharp dagger, looking at me as he does it.

The room is lit with sconces and now I can actually see. I recognize his face immediately and everything clicks into place.

"Lady Katara, may I introduce you to Bowen, victor of the Sixty-ninth Black Games," says Iroh, more so out of politeness than anything else. Honestly, who _doesn't_ know who Bowen is? I can't believe I didn't realize it sooner. No wonder his voice sounds so familiar.

Despite not coming from a Fire Province, Bowen is the Capital's favorite victor, and one of the youngest, winning at just fourteen years old. I've seen him on the screens countless of times. His handsome face is hard to forget.

Now that I'm seeing him in person, he's taller than I imagined, even taller than Zuko. The screens don't give away just how green his eyes actually are—a sort of bright, deep green, like the color of summer leaves—nor the color his skin. If I didn't know any better, I'd think he was from Province 9, but no, that can't be right. None of us have green eyes. Maybe he spends all his time in the sun. I don't know. But I do know he's an Earthbender, a talented one, but that's not what he's known for. Like Mai from Province 2, his specialty is throwing daggers. And he makes her seem like a novice.

So you can see why I don't take my eyes off that knife in his hand when I say, "Nice to meet you."

I try to sound neutral, not at all bothered that this boy—that I don't even know—is shirtless, revealing a perfectly sculpted chest and stomach. His arms are corded with muscle, his tan body sweaty and dirty. He doesn't seem bothered at all with being half naked in my presence. I'm pretty sure it's not because he was just in a fight. He's probably doing it to intimidate me or make me feel uncomfortable, but I won't let him.

Bowen props a foot against the wall and leans back. He takes a bite out of the apple, the crisp crunch the only sound in the otherwise tense and silent room. His stance is casual, going with his playboy persona, but his eyes are watching me too closely for me not to take him seriously. I don't think those eyes miss anything.

"Katara," he says, like we're the best of friends. "The girl who killed the prince and princess to win. Touché. I have to admit, I didn't call that one."

When he tilts his head to the side, his black, spikey hair falls jaggedly across his eyes. It's a little longer than Zuko's and equally as messy, but where the prince's is soft and ruffled, Bowen's is all sharp and edgy. I can now catch the glimmer of a single emerald stud in each ear, the same color as his eyes. All the bright green makes his face look tanner.

He takes another bite of the apple and grins, his mouth full of juice.

I can feel Lu Ten's heated gaze, but I don't look at him. I keep focused on that knife in Bowen's hand. He might be gorgeous, but I have no reason to trust him. I don't think trusting anyone with a face like that is a smart idea.

"Glad to know I made an impression on you," I say dryly.

"You made an impression on just about everyone, actually. But I don't think that's necessarily a good thing."

"Then it's a good thing I don't care what you think, isn't it?"

Bowen's grin widens. Damn, I was kind of hoping he'd be bothered by my insult. For someone I sort of admired for his skill in bending and fighting, his persistence and bravery at such a young age, he's turning out to only annoy me.

Still grinning, he glances at Lu Ten. "I bet you can't stand her."

"I can't stand _you_," Lu Ten tells him coolly.

"Now that's just not true." Bowen pushes himself off the wall and looks over to Iroh, face suddenly serious and maybe even a little hostile. "Why have you all been following me? What do I owe the Capital now?"

There's a hidden meaning there, but it's clearly something that is none of my business.

"What makes you think this is about the Capital and not your allegiance?"

Bowen gestures toward me with his chin. "She wouldn't be here otherwise."

"I am actually here _because_ of her," says Iroh. I blink at him in surprise. "Lady Katara believes she can bring back Prince Zuko with the use of blessed water from the spirit oasis. I believe we will require your aid."

Bowen, who is about to take another bite, pauses. He looks over at me in surprise. "Water that brings back the dead? That sounds like you're asking for a death wish. You should get rid of it."

"Get rid of it?" I repeat, stunned. "I'm not going to waste it!"

"You'd be smart to." Bowen takes another bite. It's supposed to look like a casual gesture, but his eyes have darkened, and he's gripping the apple too hard. "Water only heals so much. There's no way it can bring someone back to life or else everyone would do it."

"Not everyone _can_ do it," I argue. "I went into the Games with an empty necklace and came out with the spirit water. It's…spiritual or magical, I don't know. I can't explain it."

Bowen looks at me with disbelief. "And what makes you think it will work?"

"What makes you think it won't?" Suddenly I'm angry. Angry at Iroh, and certainly at Lu Ten, because Bowen was his idea, and he clearly is not helping matters at all. "Look, I don't have time to waste on people who have already made of their mind that it won't work. If you don't want to help, I won't beg you. You're wasting my time."

I start to leave the room when I hear Bowen sigh.

"Wait," he says, but I keep moving. I reach the door, start to pull it open—a knife soars past me and slams into the crack between the door and wall, jamming it shut. I jump back in surprise, as though the knife had hit _me_. My heart is hammering in my chest, but I don't dare turn around. Instead I try to pull out the knife, but damn it, it won't budge.

I stand there a moment, silently fuming, before finally turning around.

"Nice trick," I say.

"Not a trick. I can put a knife anywhere I want."

"Why not try putting one down your throat? See how that works for you."

Bowen smiles, one that should melt my heart because he's so handsome, but it's too cold. "Do you know why I never miss my targets?"

I want to reply that no one is perfect, that he has to miss sometimes, but suddenly I'm just not sure. It was six years ago that I saw Bowen win, and even now, I don't know if I saw him miss with his daggers. I don't remember everything about the Sixty-ninth Black Games, but I do remember that once Bowen was sent in a box of daggers, he was crowned the victor the next day.

"I never miss because I don't have a reason to."

Suddenly, he holds out his hand. For a horrifying second I'm afraid he wants me to take it, but then I hear the familiar whisk of metal flying through the air, just past my ear. I see it _land_ in his palm, like he had used some sort of invisible string to pull it to him. But no, it moved too fast. It _flew_ through the air.

"What…?" I start, open mouthed, but my words are cut off when Bowen takes a step forward and launches the knife at me. It happens so fast I can't even scream; all I do is close my eyes and back into the door, like I can outrun the knife.

It moved so fast that I expected instant pain. But the pain never comes. I finally peek open an eye. A sharp knife hangs in midair, a hair away from my face, pointed straight at me. My eyes focus on it only a second before they see Bowen, his hand still out.

He pulls back; the dagger comes zipping back to his hand. He shoves it into his belt, and all I can manage to do is gape at him.

"How did you do that?" I finally ask.

"My _trick_, as you call it, is bending," says Bowen. "I'm a Metalbender. Certain types of weapons are easier than others. Daggers and knives I can control as easily as earth. I could put one halfway to your heart and leave it there if I wanted to."

I remember the Metalbenders who work the elevators back at the plaza. I never considered them a threat before. Now I know better. The idea that an Earthbender can have perfect control of where a metal weapon goes is beyond frightening.

_I could put one halfway to your heart and leave it there if I wanted to._

"That's why you won so easily," I say quietly. "You could bend metal."

"That's not the _only_ reason I won, but yes, it gave me a distinct advantage."

"Does everyone know you can do that?"

"Of course not."

"I mean—"

"The Fire Lord? Yes, he does now." The sudden coldness and bitterness to his voice does not escape me. I want to know more, but his tone tells me this subject is over.

Bowen glances over at Iroh. "Where do I fit into this little scenario? My reputation cannot be jeopardized."

Is he serious? We're talking about saving the Fire Nation's prince and he's worried about his _reputation_?

"We both know it won't be," says Lu Ten, sounding irritated for some reason.

"Prince Zuko is heavily guarded, and I fear what might happen if Lady Katara—"

"Just Katara," I interrupt, suddenly annoyed at all of them. "Please."

"_Katara_," Iroh amends. "I fear what might happen to Katara if she tries to heal Zuko privately. I fear what will happen if my brother finds out the properties of the water _before_ the funeral. I have come to the conclusion today that there is no other option but to—"

Bowen holds up his hands, as if he can't possibly listen another second. "I don't understand how this has to do with me," he cuts in, sounding exasperated. He inclines his chin toward me. "You want me to guard the girl?"

_The girl?_ My mouth drops open in indignation.

"To some extent, yes," says Iroh, and this time I actually scoff. I don't need protection! "But more importantly, you will need to—"

"I have an idea," I blurt out loudly, because I'm starting to become overwhelmed, and yes, very angry. All eyes shoot to me, and I plunge on bravely. "General, you say I shouldn't try to save Zuko privately, and I agree. The people need to see me do it. And they can, if we set up a Watcher to broadcast a live feed to every screen in the Capital. I just don't know when or where is the best time and place to do it."

Everyone is silent. Bowen has discarded the core of his apple, and is looking at me curiously. He pushes his dark hair out of his eyes. "That's…not a bad idea, if you know how to do it," he says.

"I don't, but I know someone who does."

"Does this person have the equipment?"

I sigh, my high starting to deflate. "I doubt it."

Bowen gives me a smug, satisfied look. "Good thing I didn't swallow that knife, otherwise you'd be without someone who _can_ get that equipment. I assume you'd need it by tonight since the funeral is tomorrow."

"I'm sure General Iroh has access to the Capital's technology," I say, determined to discredit him in some way.

"He probably does, but I'm the guy who breaks all the rules around here."

I turn to Lu Ten. "Is that why you recommended him? He's some sort of scoundrel?"

"_Scoundrel?_" Bowen echoes, appalled.

"More or less," Lu Ten replies. "Bo has connections everywhere in this city, and his reputation allows him to meddle into things even I can't."

"You still haven't made it clear when you want to do this," Bowen says. "There's no way Zuko will be left long enough for even _me_ to get Katara in that room with him. And even then, that's not even the hardest part. It's getting _out_ that will be trouble." He gives all us a pointed look. And then, suddenly, his eyes glaze over, like he's only just realized something. He turns to Iroh. "No…really? It's not ready yet."

"It's the only way," Iroh reasons.

"What?" I ask anxiously.

"It might not work against Everlasting Fire and you want me to…No. She'll never agree."

Now I'm starting to get annoyed. "Who will never agree? What are you talking about?"

"And I'll be bending _blindly_." Bowen goes on. "Do you know how dangerous that is?"

"It is the _only_ way," Iroh says again. "It cannot happen before. It must happen after, when there is less Guards to see you. When they are burning."

"But—"

"There is no other Earthbender who has the control you do."

"What are you talking about?" I finally shout. "Stop acting like I'm not here!"

Lu Ten, who has been oddly silent, turns and fixates me with a grave look. "You're going into the fire."

* * *

**A/N:** Thanks for reading! I'm so glad that everyone is as pumped for this story as I am. Thanks guys, for being such awesome readers! Bonus for every 200 reviews like last time, yes? How about we do Character Q/A? So once we reach 200, you can ask one character one question for up to five total characters. (Only ALIVE characters can answer..)

So Bowen is my Finnick inspired OC. Inspired is the key word..he's not Finnick thrown into this story. :P Sadly no trident-but he's a badass with those daggers. :P You'll get to know more about him as the story progresses. Ironically I thought of his name long ago, before finding out that Bolin of Legend of Korra has the nickname Bo. So to avoid confusion, Bowen is inspired by Finnick, NOT Bolin. :P

**MHZutaraFanGirl: "Lu Ten and his feelings toward Katara are believable, and I'm torn between which side to take."** - That's how I feel too, and I was hoping readers would feel the same. Understanding both sides, and being able to sympathize with Lu Ten. It's harder to see things from his point of view when we've been in Katara's the whole time.

**AvidReader4EVR: "I kind of resent Iroh's comment on Zuko's feelings "finally" being reciprocated. Does he think she kisses everyone she meets."** - Iroh is actually not referring to Katara. He's talking about Ozai. :P He says "And I saw enough to know what you mean to him. It is nice to see those feelings are finally reciprocated." What he means is that he's glad to know that someone who means a lot to Zuko actually recipcroates those feelings in return.

**andtherainstops: "Will there be a war like in Mockingjay?"** - I'm hoping to in the third installment. :P

**Rewritinglife: "Will you be introducing old A:TLA characters to fill in the gaps for The Rise of One? Or would old characters reappear?"** - There will be minor characters from the actual series in this fic and the third installment that will sort of become the lead characters. Bowen is also a main character, just like Finnick becomes.

**ShoeNinja: "Also very curious about how Ozai will/did interact with post-victory Katara."** - You will get to see some Katara/Ozai interactions. :P It took me awhile to figure out how Ozai would react to her.

**Random Reader: "Iroh stuck up for canon Zuko when he was completely unreasonable, so it's weird seeing Iroh scold Lu Ten for comparatively minor outbursts over something very large. In defense of Katara, no less."** - I think he scolds Lu Ten not because Lu Ten wasn't justified, but out of (lack of) manners. Iroh, in some ways, was perhaps a bit more leniant on Zuko in the show because A) he felt bad about what was happening to him and B) he regretted not being more of a father figure. Parents tend to do that, lol become a bit more leniant when they feel bad or guilty. I know parents that tolerate certain behavior from one child and won't tolerate from another. Not always fair, but that's just what I've noticed.

With Lu Ten, Iroh is a bit more strict, and does not tolerate rudeness. And especially to Katara, whom Iroh does have a soft spot for through Zuko. Iroh knows Zuko inside and out, and he feels like he lived these Games through and with Zuko. Iroh did nothing but watch the Games and try to help Zuko in any way he can. In doing so, he got to see EVERYTHING Zuko did, especially with Katara. So he really knows exactly what this girl means to his nephew. And he also knows the risk she's willing to go through to save him. It's why he's able to forgive Katara for doing what she did-he sees the big picture.

**"I'm also curious about how he's come to mellow, since Lu Ten's death seemed to be the canon catalyst for his change from a war enthusiast."** - You kind of answer it in your review lol. It's actually because Lu Ten is alive that he's so mellow. There's actually more to their story that will be revealed down the road. :)

**AnnaAza: "After many fics of Lu Ten being basically a younger version of his father, I was surprised to see him so hostile"** - For me, Lu Ten is almost like an OC that takes on the need of the story. This Lu Ten is different from This is My Idea's Lu Ten because this story calls for a different kind of character..if that makes sense. :P His backstory in this is also completely different than it was in TIMI so it changes his character. I don't really like doing character's that are carbon copies of their parents, but I do think some similarities should be included. I do have a character arc planned for him that, though. :)

**"I've been thinking of the title..."** - This is why I love this title: so many possibilities! It actually has several references, but I'm not going to say yet because of spoiler reasons! lol

**Wicked Empress: "It was really nice that Iroh isn't that much different from the show."** - Thank you! Iroh is so hard for me to write. One of the biggest differences in the show and this story is the actual games and the effect it has on those who watch them. Watching the games is harder on Iroh now that he has a child of his own. That shaped some of his character-knowing that these kids who compete are someone's Lu Ten and Zuko. There is more to it than that, but I'll just stop there. :P

**DarkPrincess Adidas: " Have you thought about writing a Legend of Korra story?"** - I actually have a one shot planned! I haven't been able to finish it yet. I didn't want to write anything for LoK until I have seen several episodes to grasp the characters. Of course my story will be a Makorra fic. I'm such a huge fan of that ship it's not natural.

**A Flicker of Candlelight: "By the way, when did the spirit of oasis water show up?"** - It actually appears in the Games, when Katara realizes that there can only be one victor, that she has to kill Zuko, because that's the only shot she has at saving him. The only reference I give to that in the story is when she thinks "I _feel_ the pieces of the puzzle coming together" in the second to last chapter, just before she stabs him. Meaning, she feels the water appear. I didn't want to say that in the story because that would have given away her master plan, haha.


	3. Hail and Farewell

**A/N**: I'm sorry for the lateness of this update, but the story is getting complex and I had to make sure I set up everything right. Enjoy! :)

* * *

"Our life is made by the death of others."  
_ - Leonardo da Vinci _

**Chapter 3 - Hail and Farewell**

"What did you do today?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing at all?"

"Ate. Answered a few questions for Joo Dee. Got fitted for my dress for tonight."

"I'm sure it is lovely."

I shrug indifferently.

"Are you experiencing any new pain?"

"I wouldn't really call it new."

Lady Su gives me a look before grabbing my hand and bending my fingers around. "Anything? The bones in your pinky seemed to have healed fine, but sometimes the pain will resurface."

"I'm fine."

"Are you?"

Now it's my turn to give the healer a look. It's been like this ever since I woke up three days ago. She inspects my health while casually inspecting my sanity. She wants me to talk, to make sure I'm not about to lose my mind, so I give her all the answers she's looking for. Just not as pleasantly as she'd want, I expect. I didn't realize I would have to go through this. I wonder how long most victors have to stay at the Capital before they are released to go back home. I didn't think to ask Joo Dee. She wrote my dad the letter saying I would remain here for a few days. Until I was "back on my feet and in good health" she said, but I didn't think to ask her how long she estimated.

"Can I go now?" I ask Lady Su. "I'm having tea."

"With whom?"

"General Iroh."

The healer's grey eyes widen. "The General?"

"To discuss the procedure for tonight," I say nonchalantly. Only a half lie.

"Very well. I will see you tomorrow morning for your daily inspection."

I nod, hop off the examining table, and leave the room. All I can think is that maybe she won't.

* * *

I've never attended a funeral before.

In Province 9, we cast our dead out to sea. Usually it's very private, and only immediate family is present. I don't really think being surrounded by Guards counts as support. I was too young—just a newborn—to remember my mother's, and I've missed Sokka's since I've been trapped here. My poor dad has had to suffer through both, completely alone.

It's all my fault.

"_Do not let yourself become consumed with guilt and forget to live,"_ Hama had told me. I tried to listen, but I can't help but blame myself for his pain—for the death of my mother and brother.

I'm not sure why some memories are foggy and others are as clear as glass. I'd like to think it's because we cling to the memories we never want to forget, but I also think that's probably true of the ones we _want_ to forget, but can't, no matter how hard we try. I don't think I'll ever forget some of the details of the Black Games—Aang's smile in death, holding Sokka in my arms, the sounds of Ty Lee, Suki's burning flesh, Zuko's still body. Lady Su told me it's normal to forget things that happened in the Games, as it's the mind's way of dealing with the pain. I wish that was true for me, but I remember everything so vividly.

I guess that's how my mind works—no matter how much I want to forget something, my mind won't let me.

One of the oldest memories I have is of my dad, just looking at me. I don't even know how old I was, but I was young enough to understand hate. I guess it doesn't matter how old you are, or if no one has told you what "hate" means. One look and you just _know._ You know how to read human emotion before you can do just about anything else.

My dad never hated me, but I think he hated that I was the reason his wife had to die. He would never admit it, but part of him resented me, and although I knew he loved me, I could see how hard it was for him to look at me. Everyone always says I look like just my mother.

It was like that for a while, my dad struggling with his newfound love for me and the love he lost. He took care of me—made sure I was fed, taken care of, tucked into bed, healthy—but he functioned like machinery. I shouldn't remember that, but I do. My dad had turned into an echo of what I know him to be now. I don't know how long he was so detached from the world; all I remember is one day Sokka was very upset with me—I don't even remember what I did now—but I'll never forget what he said:

_"It's your fault we have no mother!"_

I've never seen my dad so angry in my life.

I don't remember what he said to Sokka after that—I was crying, and I just remember a lot of yelling and Sokka crying, too, because he didn't mean it, and him getting his favorite boomerang taken away. Afterwards my dad just pulled me into his arms. He held me for so long and just cried. It was one of the few times in my entire life that I've seen my dad cry. All he kept saying was how sorry he was, how much he loved me, and how he didn't blame me for my mother's death. That Sokka didn't either. He was just angry and sad.

My dad joined us in the real world after that and he never left us here again.

Even though I was little, I understood the blame—it _is_ my fault my mother is gone. If I hadn't been born, she would probably still be here—but I never understood why it took my dad so long to understand that I wasn't my mother. Why couldn't he see me for me, and not a memory? How could you look at someone and resent them just because they reminded you of someone you once knew?

I didn't understand that until now.

My tea has gone cold. I'm sitting around a table in the plaza while Lu Ten goes over the final details for tonight to Bowen—and me, I guess. I should pay close attention but I just can't seem to hear him. I'm too consumed by the resemblance of Zuko in Lu Ten and the mannerisms of Bowen that remind me of Sokka to really focus. I didn't notice it as much before as I do now. Lu Ten and Zuko have the same strong jawline, and they both set those jaws when they're concentrating. The same raven hair and those gold eyes. That damn crown on Lu Ten's head, just mocking me. Maybe if he would smile I'd be able to shake off this image. But he's so serious, just like Zuko.

Bowen's laughter sounds so much like Sokka that it actually hurts me to listen to it. He laughs a lot. A lot more than I would have expected. Just looking at him—all dressed in black with his high collared jacket, hair sweeping into his eyes, those earrings—he looks like some sort of assassin. But when he laughs, that image drains away. There's a playful and seriousness to him, just like Sokka. It comforts me a little, but it hurts me and makes me angry, too. I can't decide which feeling is strongest.

"Did you catch all that?" Bowen asks me suddenly. I blink at him, dazed.

"No."

His mouth curls into a small frown. "I'm concerned with how unfocused you are," he says, pointing the tip of a sharp dagger at me. I wonder how he'd feel if I ruined his pretty face with it.

"I'm concerned that you're supposed to wear white to a funeral and you're wearing black but you don't see me complaining about it," I say.

"White doesn't suit me. You are the main concern at the moment, not my clothes. They do not require focus."

I roll my eyes. "All I have to do is use the water. You're the one who needs to be focused. If you mess up, I'll be burnt to a crisp."

Bowen gasps dramatically. "You wound me, Kat. I happen to be a _Master_."

I cringe. "Did you just call me Kat?" Although his hair nearly covers his eyes, I can still tell he's raising a brow in silent challenge. His lips twitch, like he's fighting off a smile. "Don't call me that. I'm not an animal."

"I like it."

"Bo," Lu Ten warns.

"Well, I don't," I say.

"The nickname stays. Speaking of clothes—that you don't have, might I add—where's your friend? That's an even more pressing issue."

As much as it pains me to admit it, he's right. Where _is_ June? I'm supposed to attend the funeral with my team but I haven't seen her since this morning, when I told her about the suit I have to wear under my outfit. We had to throw out the dress she had created because it revealed too much skin. I started to panic that I wouldn't have anything to wear, because Bowen says I can't risk coming back here just to change. June told me she'd figure something out and left, saying she had to pick up more equipment for the screening.

That was hours ago.

I don't really realize how much I'm depending on June until this moment. _Don't panic. Breathe, Katara. Focus._

"I don't know. Give her a break, _Bo_," I say, emphasizing the nickname. "She's probably getting last minute supplies. Plus she had to find me a new outfit because of _you_. She does have a job, you know. My _stylist_."

"Well, as long as your outfit is perfect, then we shouldn't worry about anything else, should we?"

Angry and appalled, I open my mouth to throw back a hateful comment, but Lu Ten cuts me off.

"We can't wait much longer. The funeral is starting soon." His tone makes me look at him, but he turns his attention to Bowen. "I realize everything is a joke to you but this is serious, Bo. I'm about to watch my cousins burn to death with the hopes that one _might_ return by a means of a crazy, impossible plan that will probably backfire on all of us in the end."

Bowen's expression hardens, all playfulness vanished. His dagger, which he had been twirling between his fingers, completely stills, suddenly far more dangerous to me now. "Don't pretend you are the only one who has lost something in this lifetime, Lu Ten. Don't worry. No one even knows you aided Kat. Your name will not be blackened should the Fire Lord decide to punish us."

The prince's eyes flash. "That has nothing to do with this!"

"Of course it does. Why else would you have come to me?"

"The only person that will be shown on the screen is me, so it's _me_ who will be punished so both of you just shut up!" I shout.

Both boys look at my sharply, surprise evident in their expressions. Lu Ten bows his head, avoiding my gaze. I think he looks a little ashamed for some reason. When he finally meets my eyes, it's full of softness I didn't know he possessed. Looking at him now, it's like looking at Iroh instead of Zuko.

"Bo, you should probably get down there. Katara and I will need to go soon as well."

The Earthbender looks like he wants to protest, but instead says nothing, simply stowing his dagger and silently leaving the room. He's about to close to door when he pauses and turns his head slightly to the side.

"Don't forget the suit," he says, and then closes the door; as he walks out, Joo Dee rushes in, throwing a confused, backward glance at Bowen. Her posture stiffens immediately and she whips around to face me, eyes wide.

"Katara, what is _he_—oh," she says, catching herself upon seeing Lu Ten. Her face flushes and she bows quickly. Dramatically. I almost laugh at her. "Prince Lu Ten, I did not…it…an honor…"

Lu Ten smiles gently at her evident discomfort. He probably thinks she is smitten with him but I know better. An unexpected visitor just ruins Joo Dee's tightly woven schedule of events.

"I was just having a quick word with Katara before the funeral," says Lu Ten.

Joo Dee blinks. "Of course, Your Highness."

Lu Ten nods at me once in dismissal, but it's a stiff, forced gesture.

_He still doesn't like me_, I think, and return his nod reluctantly.

When he leaves, Joo Doo practically pounces on me with questions. I answer vaguely and bluntly, just trying to appease her and not dig myself into a hole—I'm a terrible liar. I don't really pay too much attention to what she says until one comment snaps my attention back to her.

"The prince is one thing, Katara, because he can do whatever he pleases, but speaking with a mentor from _another_ province in your own chambers?" She splutters, horrified. "That is neither acceptable nor appropriate!"

"Mentor? What are you talking about?" I ask.

Joo Dee gives me a reprimanding look. She raises a hand, like she's about to run it through her stick-straight hair, but thinks better of it. "What am I—_Katara_, Bowen was the mentor from Province 6 this year. He mentored the boy you killed!"

My jaw drops.

Bowen was Jet's mentor.

* * *

When June finally gets back, Nina is already finished with my hair and Cho adds the final touches to my make-up. To my surprise, she's carrying what looks like white armor trimmed in gold, but when I touch it I can tell it isn't armor, but fabric.

"Out," June orders the artists. I throw them an apologetic look but they don't seem to mind June's bluntness as they shuffle out the room.

"No dress?" I say, eyeing the new ensemble suspiciously.

"No. This will cover you. Just try not to pass out from the heat."

I unwrap the package Bowen left me and pull out a thin, black bodysuit. I hold it out, examining it. "Do you think it'll work?" I ask June.

"I know it will work. Prince Zuko had something similar. The Fire Province stylists always make their tribute's uniforms fire resistant."

"Yeah, that must be nice," I say dryly.

June shoots me a look and pouts her dark red lips. She's already dressed in white robes trimmed in black. The white contrasts with her dark hair and black eye powder, making her look like a sort of dark spirit. "Hey, it's my first year. First year stylists can't afford that kind of thing. And you won, so I think I did a damn good job."

I laugh and the feeling is so foreign that it almost surprises me. But even more than that, I'm so glad that for the first time in what feels like forever, the laughter doesn't hurt.

The bodysuit is tight and rubbery, like an extra layer of skin. I have to step into the feet and pull it up, sliding it over my torso and then over my arms. The fabric is one of the most bizarre things I've ever seen—it looked too tight when I held it up, but when I slide it on, it stretches so wide it could fit Lu Ten. But after it's on, it suctions onto my skin like a leech. The only bad thing is that my feet, hands and face will still be exposed. Can't be perfect, I guess. Oh well. The suit is only a safety precaution anyway.

"Now, put this on," June says, holding up the white ensemble. "I had to pay an arm and a leg for this."

The style is similar to what Zuko wore in the arena, I realize with a jolt. A white tunic trimmed in gold. The pants tuck into pointed toe gold boots that nearly reach my knees. A tight gold fabric covers my arms from the elbow to the wrists, making my sleeves a little puffy. Lastly June slides something heavy over my head. Also white and trimmed in gold. It reminds me of Azula's armor with the way the shoulders turn up into a sharp point.

June messes with my hair. Nina left it wavy and down, but June decides to braid so it's away from my face. When I look in the mirror, I don't recognize myself. The style completely throws me. I look like a Firebender or Guard in mourning. I don't look anything like a girl from Province 9. I wonder what my dad will think. I wonder what he'll think of what I'm about to do.

_He'd want you to_, I think suddenly. He'd want me to do what's right. Saving Zuko is right.

* * *

A dozen Guards escort our team to the Coronation Plaza. It's not that far from the royal plaza, so I declined the offer to ride in a palanquin. I don't feel like I deserve to ride in one anyway. Not to this funeral. Not when I'm the reason it's being held.

June wasn't kidding about the heat. I have to keep bending the sweat away from my face so my makeup doesn't run off. Not that I personally care, but Nina and Cho are in fits about it. I'm the product of their work, after all.

I actually feel a little bad for Joo Dee. She's wearing high gold sandals. At least my boots are comfortable, even if the toes look goofy.

The crowd outside the plaza is separated into four groups. There are also high golden stands on either side of the runway, full of citizens. Everyone is in white. The color should comfort me—remind me of the snowy winters of Province 9, of happier times—but it does nothing of the sort. It only hurts me, making a mockery out of the color I associate with home.

I was hoping we'd be stuck somewhere in the back, but the Guards keep ushering us toward the plaza. The closer and closer I get the harder it is to walk, like I'm trudging through four feet of snow. The crowd starts to realize who I am—how can they not, when I travel with an entourage?—and as expected, I start to get a lot of cheering and booing. Mixed reactions, just like my victor ceremony. The Guards have to stop two men that try to attack me.

The closer we get to the plaza, the more I'm recognized. I should be able to hear all the commotion, see all the fingers pointing at me, but I've spotted the pyres, and my mind has dislodged from my body.

I stop walking when I see him.

The tombs are made of what looks like solid gold. He's on his back, glimmering in a shimmering gold armor. Pointed boots, just like me. His hair is left down. Messy, just like I remember. Even from here, he looks cold. Fake. Like he's made from wax.

Bile rises in my throat.

Someone grabs my elbow and pulls me forward before I can throw up. "We're almost there."

"I can't." I don't recognize my voice. Suddenly, I realize, I can hear again. It's like I can hear _everything_ now and it's so loud that I can't even think. It's too hot and crowded and I just can't do this.

"I want to leave," I say desperately.

"You can't run from grief, Kat." This new, barely audible voice surprises me. "Don't look. Just walk."

June continues to pull me forward, her grip not painful, but hard enough that I have no choice but to follow. It was her who had grabbed my elbow and told me we were almost there, but it isn't her who is speaking to me now.

No matter how quiet, I'd recognize that arrogant voice, and ridiculous nickname, anywhere. I risk a sideways glance at the Guard walking next to me. He pays me no attention, keeping in sync with the rest of the Guards. Wearing typical black and red armor, his face is concealed behind a metal mask. The Guards all look the same with no personal identity. No wonder he wasn't worried about wearing black. I have absolutely no idea how Bowen managed to pull this off, but for some reason I want to cry and laugh at the same time.

I do neither and keep walking.

Near the front of each group, a section is roped off of about thirty to forty people. These must be high nobles, based off their expensive looking robes. The Guards take us to one of the roped off groups. All I want to do is sink into the pavement. I don't want to be in the front. I don't want to see this, as childish as it sounds.

The plaza is a huge structure fit with red rooftops trimmed with gold. Up on the dais are two pyres, one for each sibling. The wall of the plaza is lined with men. I would have thought they were Guards with how impending they look, but they are not wearing armor. Instead their chests are bare, apart from a sort of heavy necklace. Their hair is all the same—black, pulled high in a wolf's tail, a red piece of fabric tied around their foreheads. Their faces are marked with red paint, like warriors about to go into battle. They _look_ like warriors.

Standing between both tombs are five men dressed in long red robes and elaborate headpieces. Their skin is pale and lined with age, the set of their mouths hard. I finally spot Lu Ten and Iroh, both dressed in formal white robes. I don't see the Fire Lord.

I don't know how long we wait—maybe it's only a couple of minutes, but it feels like forever until the sun finally starts to set—when a gong rings out and the double doors open. Fire Lord Ozai steps outside. He too is wearing long white robes trimmed in gold. The fact that my outfit looks so similar to his is disconcerting. He's an imposing figure against the dying embers of the sun's glow. I can't tell how he's feeling because his face gives nothing away. His face is so hard he could pass as a statue. He doesn't look at either of his children as he walks over to Iroh. The General, I can even tell from here, looks somber and broken, but the Fire Lord just looks forward, not really seeing anything. Lu Ten is staring at the ground.

The gong rings out again. And again.

Bowen leans over, ever so slightly, and whispers, "If we succeed, I expect you to admit I'm the best Earthbender of all time."

"If we succeed, I'll admit anything," I say.

A red robed man steps forward, holding up his hands, palms up. He lifts his face to falling sun.

"Almighty Agni, we offer the bodies of Prince Zuko, son of Lord Ozai and Lady Ursa, now deceased, and Princess Azula, daughter of Lord Ozai and Lady Ursa, now deceased. We ask you accept our sacrifices."

_Lady Ursa. Zuko's mother's name was Ursa. And she's gone, just like my mother. Just like Sokka._

The gong rings again. Drums sound, and suddenly the warrior-like men begin performing complicated Firebending with white fire. I stare, mesmerized, as they start to chant.

"Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, may you carry out their souls from our world to the next," says the Fire Sage loudly, over the chanting.

The warriors start to move, almost like a dance, still bending the fire. I've never seen anything like this. The music with the chanting is somehow sad and beautiful and exciting, all at once. I expected the ceremony to be this depressing, morbid sort of service, but this isn't. It's not happy, but it's…honorable. I think that's the right word. Just like Zuko deserves.

And Azula, too, I realize with a shock. She tried to kill me, but what choice did she have? She was just another piece in the game, just like me. I didn't want her to die. I didn't want _any_ of them to die.

My chest tightens painfully as I spare a glance at the princess. Her hair is down, falling in black waves around her body. She, too, is dressed in that same gold armor. And, just like Zuko, she looks fake and cold, even with all the warmth of the gold.

The images are wrong and terrible. I glare up at the Fire Lord, wishing he would look at me, that I could somehow melt him with my gaze. He's now watching the warrior's, his face remaining impassive. He still hasn't looked at his children or shown any signs of grief.

Not like my dad. Not like how my dad must have looked at Sokka's funeral. My dad, who did not offer either of us up in these Games.

I feel this sudden, irrational burst of rage. I've never felt such hate in my life. Not this quickly, and certainly not this intensely. I've always disliked the Fire Lord for the way the world is, for the way our province suffers, but this is different. This is me finally seeing him not as the Fire Lord, but for who he is as a person. This is pushing my already established dislike for him into something dangerous.

I hear a clink of metal and know its Bowen beside me, shuffling from foot to foot, most likely anxious in anticipation.

It's just about his turn to show me just how much of a Master he really is.

I'm no longer afraid or scared of going into the fire. I'm ready to go, right now. I'm ready to show the world that the Fire Lord can't stop me from doing the impossible.

Suddenly the chanting stops with one last pound of a drum. The Fire Sage lifts his right arm, pointing out toward the horizon with two fire-lit fingers. The warrior's follow suit, their fingers lit with white fire. Slowly, one by one, everyone around me does the same. Those who cannot bend still lift their hands, fingers pointed out.

I do the same wishing, not for the first time, that I can Firebend.

"Hail and farewell," says the Fire Sage.

The crowd chants back. "Hail and farewell."

I keep my hand raised, but I don't say it, because I'm not saying goodbye today.

* * *

**A/N:** Thanks for reading! Funerals are hard to write, I've decided. I tried to base this funeral off of what I remember of Azulon's in Zuko's flashback as well as the Sun Warriors so bear with me on that, lol. I'm glad you guys like Bowen! He's quite a character.

Review Responses:

**Destiny Crusader: "I feel like the lightheaded Iroh comes less than the serious Iroh, but that just might be circumstances."** - Iroh is a tricky one in this story. A lot of people contribute his mellowness and calmness in the actual series to him losing his son. And I do think that's part of it. In this story, he does have a reason why he's not some hard edged General and more like what we saw in the series. I'll get more into that later on. He does have a backstory but it can't be revealed yet. ;)

**"how long are you planning for this story to be?"** - I'm thinking somewhere around 20 chapters. That's my current guess but that can always change, lol!

**AnnaAza: "Bowen seems like the guy in the bar who would lurk in the corner and occasionally smirk at waitresses but would be dangerous if provoked."** - Hahaha that is pretty dead on!

**happilyinsane13: "I've always thought of Iroh as one of the most understanding characters of AtLA, even if he's in pain."** - Me too. He has this ability to see things through the eyes of others. He's one of my favorites!

**shadowjinx: "But I still don't know how he found out about her secret."** - That is actually somewhat of a typo I need to go back and fix. Originally he did find out, but then I changed that idea and forgot to edit the letter. :P He does figure she was up to something with all her sneaking around, but he didn't know she had spirit water.

**anon: "Am I right in thinking that Bowen is the Finnick Odair of the story?"** - You are right! Well, he's inspired by Finnick. :)

**gretlcascade: "i feel like maybe you almost 'got bored' with their previous ailments and so to add to the excitement, you kept them under attack."** - This was one of those things I wanted to keep similar to The Hunger Games in the sense that there's not a lot of downtime. There can't be, not when there are kids out there trying to kill each other. :P Katara's wounds I had to try to manage in the most...realistic but understandable way. What I mean is that when you're put into a situation like that, you don't always _think_ about what hurts. So Katara doesn't do too much thinking about every single wound all the time, you know?

Looking at Katara's more serious injuries: I will say she never _broke_ anything except a pinky, which Suki did do. The ankle was a sprain, so I wanted to give her the healing time that I personally took when I sprained my own ankle. Which was a few days. My boyfriend broke two fingers in a football game in high school and finished the game, lol so that kind of inspired me to let Katara push through the pain of a broken pinky at the end. :P Those two were the only injures that really required "time" to heal. The burns and cuts, like the one Suki did and Zuko did, were able to be healed with a salve. (I think I wrote that..lol)

It is really confusing sometimes keeping up with the injuries so I can see why it's confusing. It confused me to write it all! haha

**"i ship kataang hardcore it's ridiculous but i figure this is AU so it's okay, but you still make me feel guilty for liking this so much."** - Another Kataanger! I feel so honored when I see a Kataang fan likes my story. lol

**"have you ever heard of a book named Divergent?"** - I just bought it not that long ago! Haven't read it yet. I have a long reading list, haha. That's another reason I changed the title once I heard all the excitement over it. Not that there aren't stories with the same names, both in fanfic and in real publications, but I wanted to avoid the confusion. Plus, The Rise of One works better. :P

**EbunnyLove: "Lu Ten is very complex."** - He is! Since he's basically an OC, I think he has that ability to adapt. Even though characters are set in stone in the canon world, I think they do change a little based on the plots you tweek. Say in the series, if Katara hadn't lost her mom, she would have been different than what we saw in the show. So with Lu Ten, he's raised in a different world than This Is My Idea, another fic of mine that features him. So he'll end up being different, too. But he is very complex in this story and I look forward to unraveling him to you guys. :)

**sparkling unicorn: "Is Bowen going to have someone like Annie like Finnick did?"** - You'll have to wait and see!

**raelover123: "I like how Katara frequently compares Zuko to Bo, it's nice to see how much she misses him without you flat out writing 'I miss him'**" - Thank you! This is very gratifying to hear because I really try to do more showing with my writing than telling. So thank you. :)

**AvidReader4EVR: "Doesnt Iroh already know that the only thing Osai really responds to, is power and he himself n of course Lu Ten have recipocated Zuko's feelings so him acting like Osai's was the most expected or acting like his lack of emotion was so unexpected"** - The difference is that Iroh has loved Zuko unconditionally, but that is not enough for Zuko because he WANTS Ozai to love him. Zuko hasn't really grasped how Iroh feels about him because he's so focused on his father. What Iroh is saying, basically is, "Zuko has never wanted to feel accepted or cared for by anyone but Ozai, but now also you, Katara."

Iroh sees that. That Zuko WANTS Katara to accept him and care for him. And Iroh also sees that Katara does. So he's glad that someone Zuko WANTS to care for him actually does. Zuko never sat around wondering if Iroh cared for him. He kind of took Iroh's love for granted, just like he did in the series.

**ligeisa: "wouldn't the spirit water not work because the spirit has long detached from the body?"** - Time and magic are not relevant. :P Magic isn't the best word but it's easier than saying "a power beyond mortal abilities." lol There are issues and potential threats with this task, but time is not one of them.

**"I'm also patiently waiting for Zutara version of Mulan."** - I'm very excited about that as well! I'm going to be smart and not post until it's completely mapped out. Which might be a few months, but at least you'll have this to read, too. :)

**Blue lover of some: "will you be doing Character Q/As for this story?"** - When we reach every 200 reviews, I will do a character Q/A session. ;)

**Katniss1327: "If Ozi found out that Zuko was alive wouldn't he Just make them go back into the arena.?"** - He can't because they already have a victor. Ozai, if anything, upholds rules. :P

**Random Reader: "Finnick didn't make me hate him in two seconds flat"** - Haha I must defend Bowen! Well, let me start by saying Bowen might not be the first metalbender. He's the first Katara encounters, who admits they metalbend, so keep that in mind. I took inspiration with how he bends metal based on earthbending, actually. I remember in the series where they could stop rocks in midair and keep it hovering and push it through the air, so that's why Bowen can do that. He's had about 8-10 years to perfect metalbending too so that helps. lol

As far as never missing with a dagger...well, he'd never miss a target that isn't moving. It's MUCH harder, even with his skill, to hit a moving target. The reason he's so accurate isn't because it's metal..it's because he's spent years practicing. With time, all benders become more accurate. Think about throwing regular darts. The more you practice, the better aim you will have. So it's not really him cheating. He's a master at this point and has spent years perfecting his bending. Pakku would be the same way with an ice dagger.

I think it just seems more threatening and more like cheating because they are daggers made of metal versus rock, so the weapon is more deadly. But basically he can put the dagger just about anywhere he can put a rock. I will say, too, that it's easier to control the smaller the metal is. A dagger is easier to control it's aim verus I don't know, a house made of metal, lol. The larger the mass, the more control it requires, and the harder it is to hit a target.

**"I'll be looking forward to seeing if that's intentional and/or he takes a really hard fall later."** - Him seeming perfect is intentional. :P When we meet Finnick in THG, our only opinion of him is what Katniss thinks. She thinks he's this perfect, gorgeous boy who is a playboy of the capital. We find out later there's more than that. Bowen is similar. He also has more depth, but we're only scratching the surface right now and our only impressions are what Katara knows.

**Placidwickedness: "will Bowen die?"** - Now you know I can't answer that! lol

**Tiny Cherie: "Bowen is amazing! He sort of reminds me of Will Herondale"** - The highest of all compliments! Will is like one of my favorites ever. EVER. I think subconsciously I must have put some of that Herondale into Bowen. :P Readers, if you haven't read The Infernal Devices by Cassandra Clare, please do so. Now.


	4. Into the Inferno

**A/N**: Wow! This was a toughy. Enjoy, guys!

* * *

"Well I am scared  
In slow motion, the blast is beautiful." - _Somewhere a Clock is Ticking_, Snow Patrol

**Chapter 4 - Into the Inferno**

The warriors move into formation, creating a circle around each tomb. I shift uncomfortably, and a gentle hand touches my shoulder to comfort me—Pakku, I think, but he has no idea why I'm really so anxious. He'd try to stop me if I told him.

I can almost feel his gaze; Lu Ten's eyes shift over to me, briefly, and then flicker away in silent warning. _Any minute now_, I think. My chest hurts and the pounding of the drums are not helping my hammering heart.

This will work. It _has_ to work.

_"Into the fire," I repeat dryly. "I think I proved in the Games that I'd like to live, actually, but thanks for the suggestion."_

_ "You might not die."_

_I snort. "That's reassuring."_

"_Some…outlaws, if you want to call them, have been working on something that prevents you from getting burned," says Bowen._

_ "Like a clothing material?"_

_ "Even better. It's a kind of substance for your skin." My eyes widen. "But it doesn't last long, and I'm not sure it could withstand the heat of Everlasting Fire. It probably wouldn't," Bowen adds quickly. He looks over at Iroh, face blank and serious. "I don't know if I can even get it by tomorrow."_

_ "How do you know about this?" I ask him, before the General can respond._

_ "Because it's an Earthbender who is making it."_

_ "And you just happen to know every Earthbender?"_

_ "Sometimes victors are paid in things other than gold, Katara." There's a cold, knowing glint to his eyes. A dangerous sort of glint. _

_ "Like what?" I ask._

_ He pushes himself off the wall and saunters over to me. I move back until I bump into the door; the knob digs into my lower back painfully. Bowen lowers his face to my ear and whispers, "Like secrets."_

_ "I think that will be enough, Bowen," Iroh admonishes._

_ Bowen pulls back and laughs at the look on my face. He goes back to his position on the wall, twirling his dagger between his fingers, looking far too amused._

"_Many, many years ago, the dead were put inside tombs made of wood and marble—and gold, for the wealthiest. They were given to the dragons for sacrifice. But as the time changes, so do we, and now the bodies are burned with Everlasting Fire—the fire you encountered during the peace offering in the Games."_

_Suddenly I recall the bright, white fire that acted as a barrier, and the ferocious beast Zuko and I encountered in the Games. "What happened with the dragons?" I ask._

_Iroh smiles at me sadly. "They do not accept our sacrifices anymore. I suspect they are too ashamed of what we have become."_

_I want to ask more—there's so much about this world that I don't know—but the General's gaze is already shifting back to Bowen. "The tombs for my niece and nephew are made of solid gold, but they are hollow on the inside," he says, like that should mean something._

_Bowen rubs his chin thoughtfully. "Gold is a very hard metal to bend, especially in large mass. There's no way I could bend the entire tomb out of the fire." He looks over at me, almost apologetically. "I can probably conceal him inside the tomb since its hollow, but you have to go inside to get him out."_

_I almost laugh, but somehow that seems inappropriate. "And how exactly is that supposed to work?"_

"_I'll show you."_

I'm so nervous that I dig my nails into my palms to keep my hands from shaking. So much of this plan is out of my control. I think that's mostly why I'm so anxious. I've only relied on two people my entire life and the arena taught me how to rely on myself. Something about relying on others, those I don't even know that well, makes me uneasy. If this was Sokka or my dad, I would trust them entirely. But they are not here, and my only true chance is to rely on Bowen and June. If June can't set up the screens, the world will never see what I've done—if it even works. If Bowen is even a half second off, this will end in a disaster.

My eyes flicker to the side. I do a double take so sharply that the ice in my neck cracks.

Bowen is gone.

The rest of the Guards don't seem to notice, too focused on the ceremony. Without trying to make it obvious, my eyes shift around, but all the Guards I see stationed around the plaza look the same. I have no idea where he is, but I have to trust he knows what he's doing. I know I'd struggle with bending a complicated movement without moving. Maybe he needs to be somewhere more secluded because he thought it'd be too obvious what he was doing since we're standing so close to the plaza.

_Don't let me down, Bo._

The chanting picks up again, bringing my attention back to the ceremony. The warriors raise their hands.

This is it.

They punch forward, creating a burst of brilliant white fire—so bright, like lightning, that I have to shield my eyes—and a large radius of flame surrounds the tombs with a loud sound from the gong.

"Hail and farewell!" The warriors' voices echo around the plaza and the crowd drops their arms; I didn't realize I dropped mine already until now.

My heart constricts painfully. Even though I know it's coming, I still clamp a hand over my mouth so I don't shout out. I very nearly fall to my knees—probably would have, had Pakku and June not been gripping my arms. The fire shoots up toward the sky like a torrent. In an odd way, it almost looks like a free standing waterfall of fire. The warriors draw back, and the fire continues to burn in a beam of white.

Dusk to dawn.

_You have less than six hours_, I think. That's how long Iroh says we have until the fire will consume the tomb. For now, it's simply surrounding it. The preservation and purification undergone on him is to prevent him from melting from the heat, so his body will last until the flames finally claim him. If Bowen did his job, Zuko is safe from the flames, but the gold will continue to heat and the purification will eventually be non-existent. The fire resistance substance that Bowen _did_ manage to get helps, too, as an added precaution. The idea of us being too late, and the fire prince melting and burning is so absurd and sick that I can barely think straight.

Everything is a blur as the Guards start to shuffle me and my team away from the crowd. We exit the plaza; the shouting of citizens behind me causes my veins to harden with ice. Hama murmurs in my ear, saying to ignore them, and I try, but it's hard to do when I agree with most of them.

We pass through the decoratively lit city. White flags and banners are draped in the streets and on windows. The Guards take a more secluded route to avoid the general public. It isn't until we almost reach the plaza does Bowen slip back into our group. About time!

Joo Dee falls into step beside me, practically squirming. "I have a surprise for you!" It can't have been more obvious she is bursting to tell me. "Well, I know today is a hard day, so I had the chef prepare sea prunes just for you!"

I look at her sharply. It isn't much, but a small, single act of kindness. It touches me more than I expect it to. The guilt I feel for lying to them all the sudden chokes me.

June comes to my rescue. "Well, I was thinking of taking her to a quaint little dumpling place. A night in the city."

"Somehow I struggle to see you going anywhere _quaint_," Pakku says to June dryly.

"I'm not a prisoner," I say heatedly. "As a victor, I'm entitled to go wherever I want in this city."

"It's growing late, and no other victor has ever received so many death threats," he rallies back.

"I will escort Nine and her stylist," says Bowen, in a uncharacteristically deep voice, nearly unrecognizable. Pakku looks at him, his eyes narrowed, but Bowen does not squirm under his scrutiny. Horrified, I wonder if Pakku recognizes his voice.

"We are not authorized to do so," says another Guard, the one who had been leading our group. "Our job was to escort Province Nine to the ceremony and return them to the plaza."

"Our job is to protect Province One," says Bowen, still in that strange voice. "I do not trust a victor from Nine in our city alone. Not so recently after her crowning. She is a liability."

The leader seems to think this over a moment. He finally nods once and turns toward the rest of the Guards. "Two of you will go as well. Consider it overtime and I will report back to the Lieutenant."

"Yes, sir," the Guards say in unison.

I didn't really notice much before, but these Guards are more like security soldiers than the Guards who run our province. Not once did any of these men taunt or bump into us like the Guards would back at home. Once, I remember a burly, tall Guard knocking Sokka into the ice without apology, just because he could. But this group doesn't even act like they are in charge at all, more like they take orders and follow them. The Capital must have so many that they are ranked, and we are stuck with some sort of patrol squad.

The Guards march inside the plaza, all except three, who stay behind. Pakku turns to look at me, expressionless. "I know you are upset. Do not stir trouble in this city. Not today."

Joo Dee blinks, staring at me with wide eyes. "But…you will miss dinner. _Sea prunes_."

"Thank you for thinking of me. Can you save me some?" I say, attempting to smile. I'm going to have to stoop low, playing the guilt card. My eyes flicker to the building in front of us. "I…the plaza reminds me of the Games. And everything. I just want a normal night out for once. We'll be careful."

* * *

June wasn't lying completely. We have an hour or two to kill, time for the plaza to clear out completely, so she stops and grabs us some dumplings. I don't know what Bowen did to lose the other two Guards, he won't say, but I have a feeling they are going to wake up in an ally somewhere, completely disoriented. I just hope he didn't kill them.

"Did it work?" I ask him, the moment we are alone, hidden in a secluded ally near the coronation plaza. "Is he inside the tomb?"

Bowen takes off his mask and shakes his head, black hair falling jaggedly across his emerald eyes. "Yes, and it wasn't easy, might I add. I had to do it fast enough to flip his body inside and also not draw attention to the sound. The gong was a blessed miracle."

"And the fire won't get to him," I say, needing reassurance. "I don't get how that works."

"Everlasting Fire has a life of its own and the Sun Warriors know how to use it. The fire moves with the sun, like the tides move with the moon."

I shake my head. "That doesn't seem possible."

"Neither does your water, but here we are." His head tips back to face the darkened sky. "Some things just go beyond reason, Kat."

My hand reaches up and gently touches Yue's necklace. I suppose he's right. Sokka would call it magic fire if he was here, and I'd laugh at him. He would love these dumplings and yell at me for not eating them. I just stare at them instead, trying to think how much these would cost at home.

June notices my hesitancy. "Do you have restaurants in Province 9?"

I shake my head. "Not really. Markets, places we can buy or trade food, but not a real restaurant like you have here."

She snorts. "No wonder you hate us so much."

"I don't hate _you_," I assure her. She gives me a look and I laugh. "Okay, maybe I resent you a _little_ bit. I did in the beginning, but not so much now."

_Now that I know you aren't like the rest of them._

"There are still laws and rules," she says, taking a bite out of a dumpling. "Our punishments for breaking them are still as severe as they are to you. The Fire Lord isn't…lenient with Province One. We just have fewer rules to follow."

"Are you allowed to leave Province One?"

"No, but there are always exceptions." June glances over at Bowen. "He is one of them, allowed to travel between here and his homeland. Everyone knows that."

I almost forgot he isn't from the Capital. Suddenly Jet's face flashes in my mind. And so does the arrow sticking out of his throat.

June pulls out a circular compact she explained to me earlier as a time device. I have no idea where she got it—or where she gets anything, for the matter. She has her secrets too. "We have an hour. I'm going to get the equipment for the feed. Don't go anywhere."

She had changed her outfit, back to her usual black robes, and disappears into the darkness like a fading shadow.

"Why didn't you tell me you were Jet's mentor?" I ask Bowen, once June is well gone. When he says nothing, I look over at him in question, but he's still looking up at the sky. He's still as a statue, his jaw tight. The moonlight glints off the studs in his ears. "You must hate me," I murmur, and look away.

"Hate you for doing what you were supposed to do? What I had to do?" His voice sounds hollow. "Tributes are put into the arena to kill. You did that—he failed."

His tone startles me. "You were still his mentor. Didn't you care if he lived?"

"Why don't you ask your mentor sometime? Or maybe if we aren't killed, you look back on this moment in fifty years. After you've watched fifty tributes die under you. Tell me how much you'll care then."

I stare at him, open mouthed. "I would always care! I'd never stop believing in those who needed me."

He turns to me, and the look in his eyes is like nothing I've ever seen. Haunted, deep sorrow, like he's lived with it a thousand years. "You've seen death, but you haven't watched it like I have. Year after year. But you will."

"Why are you even helping me? What's in it for you?"

His lips twitch, almost into a smile. "Maybe I just believe in what you're doing."

"And what's that?"

"Saving someone you love." He looks away then, the muscles in his jaw working. "Not everyone can."

I don't know what to say to that. I've never heard anyone refer to what I'm doing as saving someone I love. Is that what I'm doing? No. It's more than that. I don't even know if I love Zuko. I mean, I guess I wouldn't be here if I didn't, but I haven't really thought about it. Saving him is just so much bigger than how I feel about him. It goes beyond that.

* * *

Hidden in the shadows, Bowen takes out a few Guards that are on watch duty when we reach the coronation plaza. It's an unpleasant thing to watch as he tightens the metal armor around their throats until they pass out. I remind myself they are from the Capital, and probably deserve it. When that still doesn't make me feel much better, I reason with myself that they are liability if this is going to work.

I forget about them.

June is busy sorting through wires and screens and a Watcher while Bowen gives me the final rundown. He pats a long, narrow piece of rock in the shape of a giant coffin.

"These were once used as a delivery system in the Capital before messenger hawks. It makes for a much sturdier holding for you than ordinary rock. These carts are made of very strong rock and are highly purified, made to withstand a hard beating."

"You're sure I'm not going to…melt."

Bowen rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. "You shouldn't. That's why you have the suit. For extra precaution."

"Just do it fast," I say with a sigh. "I don't want to die in there."

"You won't."

I give a sort of noncommittal nod.

"Once I lock you inside, I'm going to bend you into the fire."

Yes, yes, I know this. "From the top."

"Yes," he assures me. I recall what he told me about Everlasting Fire, that it's impossible to penetrate from the sides. That's why it's mostly used as a barrier or wall. No element can breach it. "All fire has an opening from the top, where it ends. It's also not as hot."

"Well, that's good." My voice hitches in my throat.

He looks at me then, and his face softens. "I know you're nervous, but you have to trust me."

"I have no choice but to trust you." And if the General trusts him, I should, too. Suddenly I wonder if he and Lu Ten are watching from somewhere. The plan is for them to stay in the palace, that way no trace of their aid can be tracked back to them, but I can't help but think if this was happening to Sokka that I'd have to watch.

"When you reach the tomb, I'll bend away the top and also an opening in this." He pats the cart again. "Reach down and pull Zuko into the cart with you. He'll be heavy because he's wearing armor."

Bowen has this way with his voice that makes you want to believe anything he says, but I'm too paranoid to just nod and agree. I have to question everything. Again.

"How will you know when I reach the tomb though? That's what I don't understand," I say.

His lips twitch, almost smugly. "I told you I'd be bending blindly. I can't see you once you're in the fire, but I can feel your vibrations and the vibrations the gold gives off to judge the distance. I'm not great at it, but the closer I am to what I'm feeling for, the easier it is."

I suck in a breath. "Like Toph. She told me in the arena that's how she can bend."

Bowen runs a hand under his jaw. "Tricky little thing, wasn't she? I figured that out too late, once she was already in the arena. Once I saw her bend, her technique, that's when I knew."

I want to tell him about the tunnels, just to see if he thinks an escape is possible. But, why should I? Can I trust Bowen that much? Well, what did it matter now? We are out of the arena, there are no Watchers—well, except for the one June is working on—and Toph is either dead or in hiding. She's dead to the world either way.

"She was building underground tunnels," I say quietly. "To escape the arena. I don't know if she ever made it. Azula sort of blasted me into blackness. Her flag came down, but I don't know."

"_That'_s why she spent so much time underground." Bowen looks thoughtful; his hand runs along the smooth rock of the cart absentmindedly. "Huh. I hope the little sparrow made it."

"Me too."

"Don't know where she'd go, though."

I draw the line there, and just nod in agreement. Talking about provinces that don't exist would probably send Bowen questioning my sanity.

"You're not as bad as I originally thought," I say suddenly. "Unless you kill me, well, then I'm going to come back and haunt you."

He laughs loudly; I wince at the familiar tone it takes to Sokka.

"It's ready," says June.

"Your chariot awaits, my lady," says Bowen, gesturing grandly to the cart. He pulls his arms back and the cart stands vertical now so that I can walk into it.

I take a step forward, pause, and look at June. She's standing behind a Watcher, clutching it in her hands tightly. "Don't worry. I'm only going to record once you get him," she says.

_And if I don't?_ I want to say, but refrain from it. Instead I just nod. June looks like she wants to say something but thinks better of it. I do the same. I'm not saying goodbye to her today.

I slip out of my white robes and boots so that all I'm wearing now is my thin black suit. I twist my hair into a knot and take a deep breath. "I'll tell them I set up the feed—stole equipment or whatever. But they're going to ask how I got him out of the fire," I say.

"You can say I helped you," Bowen says quietly. "That's what Lu Ten expects you to say. And the Fire Lord doesn't want me dead."

That should be a good thing, but Bowen makes it sound like it's the worst thing in the world. "He can punish you," I say.

"He can, but he won't."

I don't know what Bowen knows or has done to make him so confident about this, but I decide to let it go. I step into the cart, turn, and move back until my shoulders hit a wall. It's deeper than I thought—Zuko will easily be able to fit in front of me—but it's narrow on the sides. I cross my arms over my chest.

Bowen moves to stand in front of me. My eyes settle over a point past his shoulder, where I can see Azula's white blaze. I feel a stab of guilt. Bowen glances over my shoulder and seems to read my mind.

"You can't save everyone, Kat. And she doesn't deserve to be saved."

"She didn't deserve to die, either."

He shrugs and takes a step back. His eyes catch mine, intense and captivating. "If you get halfway down and panic and want out, just pound on the walls. I'll feel the vibrations."

I nod once.

"Once you have the prince, I'll need you to pound for that, too. I'll know the difference."

Another silent nod. My eyes fall to the ground. I'm so scared this isn't going to work.

"Kat?" I look up, my heart racing. Bowen gives me his signature half smile. "Trust me."

Before I can respond, he slices a hand down and a huge piece of rock flies at me. The last thing I see is those intense green eyes before the piece of rock shuts me in like a closing door and darkness surrounds me.

The cart rattles a little when it takes off the ground. Bowen's bending is smooth as I ascend into the air. It feels like the elevators back at the plaza. I suppose it's the same basic concept, so I try to focus on that. I feel the heat before realizing I'm going down. I'm glad, suddenly, that Bowen gave me this suit. It's hot but bearable.

Then the cart drops very suddenly. I let out a small scream before it jerks to a stop. I glare in the darkness, wishing that Bowen could see it.

When the front of the cart drops open, that's when I'm blasted with the real heat. And light. It's so, so bright I have to shield my eyes. It's like looking at the sun. The fire rages all around me, ridiculously loud, but it's eerily calm where I am, hovering above the gold tomb, like being caught in the eye of a storm. I thought I'd be hacking and coughing, but somehow this fire isn't like that. It's almost like it's clean. It doesn't even hurt my lungs to breathe it in.

_It's the purist form of fire_, I think idly, glancing around in awe. _It's…beautiful_.

The top of the tomb starts to peel back, the gold snapping under strain. My cart staggers, like I've hit turbulence, and I have to grip the sides so I don't tumble out. Bowen must be struggling to bend the gold and keep me hovered.

_He really is a Master Earthbender._

The heat is starting to become unbearable now, even with the suit and the fire still so far away from touching us. It's gross, but I take all my sweat to create more water and use it on my face. Anything to keep cool.

As soon as I see Zuko's back, I reach down and get a grip on him. He's turned on his stomach, face down. It takes me four good tugs before I manage to get him into the cart.

For a moment, I'm too stunned to do anything but stare at his lifeless face. It's even worse up close, this waxy and sallow skin. But he's so _cold_ to the touch.

There is just something about holding something that has no beating heart. It feels _so_ wrong and awful. I manage to shift him around so that his back is into my chest—I can't look at his face anymore—while still supporting most of his weight. I have to keep my arms locked under his ribcage to keep him on his feet. He's ridiculously heavy, literally dead weight, but the Games have made me stronger.

I pound on the wall of the cart hard with a hand, almost losing grip on Zuko. The rocky door slams back over us, sealing us shut, and this time Bowen bends me out so fast, it's like being shot out of a canon. When we reach the ground, the door falls forward. My arms give out and Zuko hits the ground; I land on top of him.

Bowen scrambles to my side and lifts me to my feet. "Are you alright?" he asks. His grip on me is weak—I wonder how much energy that caused him just now.

"I'm fine. You were amazing," I say, meaning it. Amazing is probably an understatement. "I'll admit it now—you're the best. Thank you."

He gives me another half-smile and half falls, half lowers himself to the ground. He sprawls out on his back, closing his eyes; black hair sticks to his sweaty face. "Now I can die happy."

I almost laugh, but then I look down and see Zuko. I drop to my knees and flip him onto his back. Reaching into my suit, I pull out Yue's necklace. It almost seems to tingle in my hands, like the water is telling me to use it here.

I suddenly start to panic. How do I do this? Does he have to _drink_ it?

My breathing picks up. "I don't know what to do with the water. Where does it go? I don't know what to do."

"Calm down. It's healing water," says June. She's holding the Watcher carefully, ready to record whenever I give her the okay. "Try healing him where he was killed."

_Under the armor_.

"Help me take this off, will you?" I say, and together we strip the prince of his very hot armor—I have to bend some water out of a nearby fountain to cool it down.

I peel away his tunic, and there, on his chest, is an ugly red mark from Azula's lightning. I tip the water out of the necklace and coat it in my hands. Immediately, it glows a brilliant blue, shimmering like the moonlight on the sea. I look up at June; her eyes are wide, and the expression doesn't suit her at all.

"Turn it on. Now," I tell her.

She starts churning her hand, and the giant screen at the plaza flips on. I know the rest all around Province One are now seeing this, too.

I've already practiced what I'm going to say a hundred times, so the words come easily. "My name is Katara, and I'm the victor of the 75th Annual Black Games." My voice echoes from the screen behind me. "When we die, our souls travel to the spirit world. But I believe they can come back to us. I cannot bring back everyone who has died, but with the last tears of the ancient moon spirits, I can bring back one life. The water chooses, and it chose Prince Zuko, your prince, and the person I owe my life."

With that, I lower my hands to Zuko's scarred chest. As soon as I touch him, there is an instant warmth and pull in the pit of my stomach. The warmth spreads through my fingers, up my arms, and back down again. I actually gasp at the feeling, like I'm literally transferring life through my body to his.

Is this what healing feels like?

The water glows even brighter, almost white, and then it absorbs into his chest. For a moment nothing happens, but then, suddenly, Zuko's eyes snap open. But they are not gold. I can't see the color at all. His eyes glow a brilliant, bright white.

I gasp and scoot back as his body rises into the air with a blast of wind and white light.

I have to strain against the raging wind and brightness, but then I _see_ the air surround him, like a protective sphere. Fire and water and earth swirl around him as he rotates in the sphere. Off in the distance, I can hear people running. They must want to see this for themselves.

I look back at the Watcher, and almost have a heart attack. June is still standing here. She programmed the Watcher to record automatically so she could run away when I started.

"Get out of here!" I yell at her. Bowen is already on his feet, knives ready, in case we meet trouble. "I don't want you in trouble, too."

Her dark colored mouth hangs slightly open, her eyes never leaving Zuko. "I'm always trouble. You should know that by now. We're on the same team, remember? If you go down, so will I."

I shake my head angrily and turn back to the prince, but his body is lowering now. The wind and elements slow until they are nothing more than the last dying sparks. Zuko lands softly on his back. His entire body is hallowed with a soft golden glow, but his eyes are still that bright white. I rush over to him and place his head on my lap. Slowly, the glow around his body fades and then, finally, the white glow from his eyes fades, too.

I almost cry. His skin no longer looks waxy, but _real_. Still pale, maybe too pale, but there is color there. Still a scar on his face, but none on his chest. No mark of death.

I look up at Bowen and June, but they are both watching me, eyes wide. A crowd of about fifty stand in the plaza, silent and still. More are coming, and by the sound of it, the Guards are, too.

Slowly, I press my face to Zuko chest—

And feel a sharp intake of breath against my hair.

* * *

**A/N:** *cue loud applause and screaming fangirls*

I know Aang didn't rise into the air but I wanted something dramatic. :) Life was being poured back into Zuko, so I wanted to add all the elements into it. And yes, he is alive, in case the ending wasn't clear enough for you. ;)

Bowen and metal/goldbending. Gold is a metal, and while Toph struggled to bend it in the show, Bowen is more experienced in this story than she was at that given time. Not that Toph wasn't badass, but remember how she had to touch metal to bend it in the beginning? But then you look at the advancement in metalbenders in Legend of Korra, which you know she perfected. So my point is that Bowen has A LOT of experience with metalbending..which you'll see why later. He also has experience learning vibrations with earnbending..again you'll see why later. Lin and Aang both do it, too, so you don't have to be blind to use that technique. :P

As we reached [over] **200 reviews**, you guys get a **character question/answer session**! You may ask only ONE question to ONE character. And you can't ask Zuko because he's in no state to answer questions right now. :P Sorry! At 400, we will do another!

Review Responses:

**MHZutaraFanGirl: "I should also note how I love your development of Katara's character."** - Thank you! I really wanted to try to keep her similar to what we saw in the show, but also altered based on the "world" she grew up in. For example, she's not quite as much a mama bear in this because, unlike in the series, she's had her dad around all her life.

**lionsheart13: "I only read finish stories, because I can't stand the author stopping it, but you I think are worth the risk."** - Well thank you! I know it can be frustrating reading a fic when the author takes months to update. That's why I try to update within a week or two, at most. Thanks for sticking with me!

**lovefierce: "Please, for the love of everything grand and wonderful, let Zuko come back to life."** - Well, alright. :) Lol but really, I've had this planned all along. Zuko had to die in order to live, if that makes sense. :P

**Dreadful Lullaby: "Azula, as son? lol."** - Thank you for catching that! lol So dumb of me. I went back and changed it. :)

**Gasping for Breath: "I can totally see Bowen doing the "Do you find this...distracting?" scene."** - I will probably have to add that scene in here somewhere, haha. It's too priceless.

**"I just wanted to let you know that I think you are an amazing writer."** - Thank you so much! I've always enjoyed writing, even in school; so much more than math or history. It's great because you can always improve, too, just by writing. I look back on some of my earliest stories and cringe, lol.

**AnnaAza: "Ozai doesn't freaking care about the two things that should be most important: his children."** - Ozai is a mystery, even to me, when I'm plotting out his arc. Whether he cares for his children or not is unclear at this point, simply because he throws up that unreadable mask that Katara sees. Ozai has learned to close off his emotions, so it's always hard to tell what he's really thinking.

**spav12: "Will there be a possible love triangle by any chance?"** - Ah, the love triangle. I think those are far harder to pull off than people get credit for. To write a true, believable love triangle is a challenge. That would mean I'd have to convince you all that Katara could feel equally as strong about someone else as she does with Zuko. For me to take a Zutara story and literally have people rooting for someone NOT Zuko would be like...I would deserve a reward or something. lmao

**SparklingGem: "By the way will you do the Q/A with characters you did in the black games?"** - Your boss comment made my day, lol! But yes, every 200 reviews we will have a Q/A session. So since we've reached 200 now, you get one question for one character. And that's it. :P

**"Does Bowen have a crush on Katara?"** - Good question..better wait and find out!

**happilyinsane13: "I always wondered how mentors viewed those who killed their tributes, because they should understand because they were once victors, but they would also resent the fact they couldn't save their tributes."** - You get more insight on the mentor side of things in this story. :)

**sparkling unicorn: "Anyway you better not kill off Bowen!"** - Well, I can't say if Bowen will live or not, because I haven't gotten THAT far ahead. But I will say I never kill characters because I can. There's always a reason behind it. (I'm still trying to figure out the reason Finnick had to die..)

**"Why couldn't Gale have died?"** - le gasp! I love Gale! lol Honestly, I felt like Collins kind of warped his character so we'd hate him, lol. I wouldn't have cared much about Peeta dying to be honest...there was such a fuss over him living that I was like "oh just kill him and get it over with." I'm mean, lol. My heart breaks for Annie though. Annie without Finnick is like George without Fred Weasley. It's not right.

**EbunnyLove: "Would you consider doing a POV chapter for Zuko?"** - Maybe as a bonus, of a scene from TBG. I like readers not knowing what Zuko is thinking, because Katara doesn't know, either. I think it's good for readers to be on the same page and experience everything through the narrators perspective. Keeps the bias out. :P

**katniss1327: "are we going to hear more abot Hama and Bloodbending?"** - Yes!

**nerdimaddi: "i'm also curious, did Zuko get his scar the same way as it happened in the series?"** - Kind of. Same principle with Zuko refusing to fight his father, but the reason they were there in the first place is different. You'll find out later. :)

**silver nightstorm: "I will start off with a plea that Bowen doesn't die. Then, I will ask you again to make me his Annie"** - Haha you might have to fight against all Bowen's fangirls!

**QuietShadowz: "i cant remeber was Jet an orphan in this series?"** - Jet was an orphan in this story, but not Bowen. They have no relation other than Jet chose Bowen to be his mentor. ;)

**PrudishPerversions: "Maybe I missed this in a previous chapter, but has the Fire Nation done any sort of extreme preservation or mummification ritual to achieve this look?"** - They did, but the water gives Zuko life, and thus heals him entirely to how he was when he was killed.


	5. The Royal Court

**A/N:** I can't think you guys enough for your patience. Now that my summer class has finished, more time for writing. Yay! This chapter is a little shorter than usual, and that's because I had to cut it in half. Hope you enjoy!

* * *

"And I will get lost into your eyes  
I know everything will be alright." - _Storm_, Lifehouse

**Chapter 5 - The Royal Court**

In a world filled with color and sounds, it all fades away from me. All I can see now is his face. It takes everything in my power not to shake him or crush him into me with a hug. I've never felt like I needed to be gentle with Zuko before, but I know I do now. I force myself to stay calm, and let my fingers run over his face—the roughness of his scar, those thick, dark lashes. Strong jaw and soft, pouty lips.

"Zuko, open your eyes," I whisper, trying to sound gentle, but knowing I sound too desperate. "Please look at me."

His pale eyelids flutter under my touch, and when they finally crack open, the moonlight shifts over his face. For a moment I'm too stunned to breathe because I see a set of familiar wide, blue eyes looking up at me. I blink, and Sokka is gone, but not before I feel a stir from the wind that wasn't here before. A warm, comforting breeze that wraps itself around me like a protective sheet.

_Sokka, is that you?_ I follow the breeze up to the sky, as though I can somehow see it. Maybe I'm too close to the edge of insanity, but I swear a star twinkles, like it's smiling at me. And just like that, I find this sudden wave of relief. The guilt I've been harboring since the end of the Games doesn't go away, but I can't help but feel this sudden sense that Sokka was _here_. And that he's telling me it's okay. That using the water on the prince is what I'm supposed to do.

But maybe I'm imagining all of this.

I'm too consumed by this surreal moment to notice Zuko's hand until I feel it in my hair. I look down, and our eyes lock. For a moment the prince looks confused, like he's just awoken from a deep sleep—which he has, I suppose—but then the vacant expression leaves his face and he stares at me with wide, blinking eyes, like he's looking at the sun for the first time in years.

My stomach clenches. The emotions inside me are so intense that it feels like my chest is going to explode. I actually burst out laughing and crying at the same time.

"Katara?" My name comes out in a crack, a raspy sort of sound, like someone has turned down the volume of his voice. Zuko's eyes widen at me. "This isn't real, is it?"

I smile through the tears, vaguely aware of Bowen shouting something at me from somewhere I can't see. I think more Guards are coming, but I don't care. Nothing will ruin the moment of seeing his eyes.

I place a hand over his, the one in my hair. His skin is so wonderfully warm against mine. "It's real," I tell him. "You're here. I'm here. Everything is okay now. You're safe."

I know it's a lie, and maybe Zuko does too—or maybe he still doesn't believe this is real, that it's all a dream—because an almost amused look settles over his face before his eyes flutter shut. His hand drops. I lean down and press my forehead to his, still cradling his body on my lap.

I don't know how much time passes, but it feels like several seconds. I just manage to sit up and brush the hair from his eyes when rough arms pulls me away; Zuko's head hits the ground hard enough that any normal person would have cried out but he doesn't make a sound.

I shout out his name, but he doesn't stir. Just like in the Games. Suddenly I'm back there again, staring at his lifeless form as the Guards drag me away. Panic swarms in me, but I blink away the memories and focus on the present. That's when I see his chest, and this time it's moving. He must have fallen back into a deep sleep, but at least he's alive.

And when I feel a hot, piercing sting of fire against the back of my neck, I realize that I'm probably on my way to a deep sleep, too. And that's okay, because I've prepared for that. Another lash from a fire whip and I fall to my knees. I've forgotten how badly that hurts. The last thing I see is Bowen running toward me, mouthing words I can't hear, before everything blurs and the color fades away.

* * *

I wake up tied to a chair. The room is pitch black besides a single lit lantern, casting a daunt glow to the otherwise pallid stone walls. It feels cold and damp, like I'm underground. Disorientation slows my movements, but once my eyes finally start to adjust, I see the shadowy figures against the opposite wall and one Guard, standing about ten feet in front of me. His armor is different—black with hints of dark green instead of crimson. The mask is the same—expressionless and cold, hiding his face. He's standing in the middle of what looks like a large, metal ring.

The familiar feeling of being trapped finally snaps me into awareness. I thrash against the bindings—it's not rope, something stronger—even though it's so tight I can practically feel my skin breaking. "Where is Zuko?" I demand. "Who are you?"

"Your presence is required in the royal court." I can't tell which one of them says it, or how many there are—maybe five—but it isn't the one standing in front of me. "You are to be questioned about the resurrection of Prince Zuko and face the potential of being tried for your crimes."

The statement completely throws me off guard. "_Crimes_? I brought your prince back to life! If anything I deserve an award." I don't mean to say it out lout, but for some reason I feel like I've lost the ability to sensor anything I might want to rethink saying.

I must have stunned the Guard speaking to me though because now the one in front of me says, "You can save your…_motive_ when you speak to the Fire Lord. Know that the Capital values truth and honesty above all. Your cooperation is encouraged, but we will not hesitate to use force if necessary."

Saving my…is he implying that I saved Zuko for an _award_? I was being sarcastic! Sokka always says I use sarcasm when I shouldn't, and don't when I should, but this is different.

I just stare at the Guard, stunned. Where is Bowen? And what happened with June? Is Zuko okay? I need to figure out a way out of here. I grit my teeth and try to pull free again, but the bindings are too tight. Furious, I shout out. I want to cry I'm so frustrated, but I know that won't get me anywhere. The Guard in the middle watches my struggle through his expressionless mask, indifferent and uncaring. I already know calling out for help is useless. Wherever I am, no one is going to hear me.

"Now that you are finished, pay attention, Katara." Hearing my name come from behind the metal mask snaps my attention back to him.

Someone takes the lantern off the wall and puts it on the metal ring. Then, slowly, it starts to circle around the Guard in the middle. I stare at it, confused, watching it orbit like planets.

"Repeat after me," says the Guard, the one in front of me, his voice hard and cold. "The Capital values truth and honesty."

"I won't do anything until you tell me where Zuko is."

"The Capital values truth and honesty," the Guard says again.

"I heard you but you aren't listening to me! TELL ME WHERE HE IS!" I shout. The room is so small that my voice reverberates loudly against the walls. The Guard in the middle watches me silently; I stare back at him, fuming and breathing hard.

"Prince Zuko is alive and safe," he finally says. He tries to sound patient, but his voice has hardened, losing any bit of friendliness he might have had earlier. "He is not of your concern."

"Alive and safe," I echo, relieved.

"Yes. Are you at ease, now?"

No. Yes. I don't know. How can I be at ease when I'm bound to a chair?

I shrug. "You could be lying."

"I have no reason to lie," says the Guard. I hate the sound of his voice, I decide. It's too smooth and calm, and not in the comforting way that Iroh's is. "Are you ready to continue?"

"Continue with what?"

"Relax your mind, Katara. Prince Zuko is alive and safe. You do not have to worry."

For some reason, hearing it again reassures me. Satisfied, I relax a little and my eyes fall back on the lantern, like a moth being drawn to the flame. It reminds me of something else, but I don't know what. All I know is that watching it is soothing like a lullaby.

"The Fire Lord has invited you to the palace," says the Guard.

I blink. "What?"

"You are honored to accept his invitation."

A calmness settles over me and what feels like warm water swirls in my mind. It's comforting, but I can't help but feel exposed. Like my soul is being read and my thoughts are being sorted through, like someone flipping through the pages of a book.

I blink again, and suddenly I'm aware that something is terribly wrong.  
This feeling is not right, and if the Fire Lord is inviting me to the palace, there is some ulterior motive. Nothing good can come from a personal invite and I most certainly am not honored.

"Let me go!" I manage to wriggle out of one of the bindings, but a Guard from behind brings down a fiery whip on my wrist. I cry out as he slams my hand back to the chair. Another Guard raises another whip—this one isn't fire, but black and thin—and when he brings it down, it coils around my arms and binds me. I try to get a good look at it. It looks like some sort of metal cable. The Guard with the fire then grabs my face by the chin and jerks me forward so I have no choice but to look at the orbiting lantern.

"I admire your strength, but resistance is futile," says the Guard in the middle. "We are not going to hurt you, Katara. We only ask that you tell the truth."

I'm starting to think that the royal court is sounding like a good idea. Anything to get away from this place, away from the hot breath running down my neck. Maybe if I just cooperate and do what they want—which I don't even know what that is, stop fighting and tell the truth?—they'll let me go. I can still feel the sting from the fire on my wrist as the rope cuts into it.

I force myself to sit still, fighting the tension in my body. I hate feeling like this, like I'm nothing more than a butterfly trapped in web.

"Good. Now, listen to me carefully. The Fire Lord has invited you to the palace."

I say nothing.

"You are honored to receive his invitation."

A strange haziness washes over me, this one stronger than before. Bile rises suddenly in my throat. The Guard's grip on my chin tightens painfully and I hear myself say, "I am honored to receive his invitation."

"Say it again."

"I am—"

A door swings open and another dark shadow steps into the room. "What is the meaning of this?" I recognize the voice before the light of the lantern illuminates his face. "She is a _victor_, Long Feng."

"Every individual who is tried by the court shall be required to tell the truth, General Iroh. Even victors of the Black Games," says the Guard in the middle, apparently named Long Feng.

Iroh's face is the picture of perfected patience. "While you are correct, Lady Katara is not facing a trial today—this is a hearing, and we only administer compulsion if the hearing relates to treason or murder. Otherwise, it may only be used before a _trial_. As the head of the Dai Li, surely you should know that. What is more, she is due at the palace in less than a half hour. I suggest you release her immediately." When Long Feng does not move, Iroh adds, "That is not a request, Long Feng."

"Fire Lord Ozai—"

"—is a man who does not like his time wasted," Iroh cuts in. "I assure you, if she is late, it will be reflected upon _you_. In fact, I will report to Ozai that you seem to forget the distinction between a trial and a hearing, and their proper procedures. Perhaps you have been in this position for too long, or simply you are aware and choosing to disobey authority and laws that we make a point to uphold. Perhaps it will be you, Long Feng, who will soon be facing a trial for your injustice. Release her, now."

My mouth actually drops open. Like a scolded child, Long Feng stands stiffly silent. Iroh did not raise his voice, but I've never heard him sound so…disapproving. Like Zuko and Azula, he has that quality of voice that makes you not want to question him.

"Of course. My power does not give me such liberties as refusing you, General Iroh," Long Feng finally says, his voice coolly controlled. "I offer my sincerest apologies. It must have, ah, slipped my mind." He waves his hands and the cords practically fly off my arms and legs. I get up and move to stand by the General, rubbing my sore arms.

"The irony is not lost on me. Your cooperation is most admirable," says Iroh.

Long Feng gives a stiff bow. "As always, General."

We exit the room and walk down the corridor quickly. Iroh does not say a word until we start climbing a set of cold, cemented stairs—are we in a dungeon?

"Do you know how long you were down here, Katara?"

"Not that long, I don't think. Well, I woke up down here, but you showed up shortly after. I don't know how long I was here before that."

"Good. How is your head?"

"A little fuzzy, but alright. Why? What did they do to me?"

Iroh sighs. "It is called compulsion, a process that every individual speaking in a trial at the royal court must undergo—or those facing a hearing related to treason or murder."

I remember that word, but have no clue what it means. "What is compulsion?"

"It is a complex, long process of the mind. It takes some minutes, others are there for hours. With your body and mind at peace, the Dai Li use it to wield their desired effect—to force you to tell the truth."

I remember the unsettling feeling of my mind being picked apart. It was almost comforting, but wrong, somehow at the same time. "That doesn't seem fair."

"It has its uses. It prevents those being tried to tell lies," Iroh says indifferently. "But some do not handle it well, and others know how to block their mind from it. As I said, it is complex, with advantages and disadvantages. Likely if you were not down there long, the code has not settled and you should be fine at the hearing." Iroh looks at me suddenly. "Not that I encourage dishonesty, but omitting the truth from my brother would be very wise."

I nod. "I remember everything I'm supposed to say."

Iroh is quiet for a while as we find our way out of this maze of rock and cold. I've decided we have to be in a dungeon of some sort. All that's down here is Guards, but every once in a while we pass metal doors, also guarded.

"I apologize for not finding you sooner," Iroh says to me, almost distractedly. "I have been with…with Zuko. I did not realize you would be taken to the Dai Li."

It doesn't seem like a big deal to me, not with the gravity of everything else. I don't even remember much of anything but a pair of gold eyes. "How is he? And what happens at a hearing?"

When we came up with this crazy plan, none of us knew what would happen to me afterwards. But we all agreed that most likely, the Fire Lord and I would have to come face to face. We came up with a story, one that is partially true, that wouldn't do more damage or hurt anyone else. This is my idea, and I deserve to take the fall.

The stairs lead to a barred door that Iroh pushes open; two Guards stand stationed outside of it and give him a respectful bow as we pass. "Prince Zuko is in a sort of deep sleep, like a coma. The healers have been with him all day, monitoring him. They say his heart is beating strong and he's healthy, but they do not know when he will wake up." Iroh pauses, the fire in his palm casting a light over his gentle face. His eyes seem to glow brighter than any fire. "I cannot thank you enough for what you have done. You have given hope back to the world, Katara. You have given hope back to _me_."

He touches my arm gently. Although I should feel touched, all I can think about is what he said first and I blurt, "Can I see him?"

Iroh's face falls and I know the answer before he says it. "While I might have stretched the truth on the time of your hearing to Long Feng just a little, we still have to go to the palace right away. I'm afraid you won't be able to see Zuko until it is over."

I nod and look away. I expected to hear something like that, really. Or I should have. I don't live in a world that lets miracles go without facing consequences.

He doesn't say it, but we both know "when it's over" might never come for me. I may never get to see Zuko again. It may be weeks before he wakes up, if he wakes up at all. Iroh insists that above all, Fire Lord Ozai abides by his own laws. I can't be sent to a firing squad for bringing back the dead because well, there is no law in place for that because it's impossible. I'm sure the Fire Lord will find some loophole to punish me, but at least death isn't likely.

_Sometimes, death is easier_, I think suddenly, as I remember watching the life bleed away from Sokka._ Sometimes death hurts less than the punishments the world can give us._

"I will do everything in my power to aid you," says Iroh, bringing me out of my morbid thoughts. "This is only a questioning, not a trial. You will not be sentenced in any way, so do not worry about punishment yet."

Yet. I catch that.

_It doesn't matter_, I tell myself. _Zuko is alive. No matter what happens now, that's what matters. Stick to your story, and let the cards unfold. _

* * *

Even though Iroh is the one who found me, he's not the one who escorts me to what I'm told is the "throne room." Apparently the royal court is inside the palace. Mentally, I give Joo Dee major credit. I can't even imagine her reaction when she saw what I did. I expect a raging lecture is in my future, but right now I think she's too shocked. For once, she does not look put together and calm. On the other side of me, the temperature has dropped beyond freezing. Pakku hasn't looked at me once.

We stop outside a set of double doors. A tall and broad man dressed in the traditional black and gold robes waits outside next to two Guards. Stiff posture, arms behind his back, he gives off the air of superiority. I recognize him from my private session, the one I received a nine in. Those sideburns are hard to miss, and the ugly look on his face is hard to ignore.

He looks away from me to face Pakku, his lips curving into an amused expression. "I must admit, I have been waiting for the day to bury Province 9." His voice and tone isn't without command—this is a man who has lived many years telling others what to do. "You may fool the world with that _witch_ on your team, but her true colors are going to be revealed today."

Joo Dee gasps, clutching her chest as though the insult had been thrown at her. I'm too stunned to even feel insulted. Pakku, as always, is as frigid as a glacier.

"Your inaccurate presumptions will be your downfall, Zhao. We are meeting Jee. Shouldn't you be off planning the next death game?"

The man named Zhao grins, twisting his face into something that should be charming, but it's so clearly full of deceit that I can't help but feel disgusted. "All in good time, Pakku. As it is, I am now Head of the Elites. Jee has failed by letting that token get into the Games. He will be questioned and then…let go."

I can't help but think my idea of _let go_ is different than his.

If Pakku is surprised by this, he doesn't show it. "Very well. We do not want to keep the Fire Lord waiting, so if you will excuse us…."

"There is one more thing, Katara," says Zhao. He gives me a hard, steely look. "The Fire Lord has invited you to the palace."

"We are already inside the palace!" Joo Dee says, flustered.

Almost immediately, I feel a wave of intensity sweep over me, but it is not strong enough to overpower the rage. Iroh told me compulsion is not allowed at a hearing, unless the matter at hand deals with treason or murder. Somehow, Zhao knows what happened to me.

What he doesn't know is that Long Feng did not have enough time for it to work against me.

"I am honored to accept his invitation," I say, trying to make my face and voice as blank as possible.

Joo Dee shoots me a confused look. Zhao, seemingly satisfied, motions for the Guards to open the doors.

I sort of expect the hearing to be in a plain, small room with the Fire Lord sitting in a fancy throne, frowning down at me while I sit in a tiny chair in the middle, feeling like a fish out of water.

I've got the throne part right, except my scenario didn't include a _wall_ of fire burning behind him. And this room isn't plain or small. It's huge, virtually empty, with black marbled columns spread throughout the room. Fire Lord Ozai sits on a raised dais, in an intricately carved throne made of gold. The room is lined with at least thirty Guards and a dozen Elites. Iroh is here, too, though he does not acknowledge me.

All for the better.

I recognize a few Elites from training, and others from my private session. Some I don't know at all, though the ones with the arrow tattoos remind me of Aang. We move to the center of the room to address the Fire Lord; Joo Dee elbows me to bow, and I do, reluctantly.

When my eyes finally lift from the grown, they lock on the heavy gaze from the Fire Lord. He doesn't necessarily look angry, but he doesn't look happy, either. I wish it was indifferent, but it's too intense for that. It's almost like he wants me to know that he sees me, very clearly, and that he's very much aware of me now.

I used to get jealous when everyone in the White House or school would talk to Sokka, giving him all the attention, pretending I'm not there. Now, I want nothing more than to blend back into the shadows.

* * *

**A/N:** Thank you for reading! Okay so the Dai Li. One, I thought using the word "brainwashed" sounded weird, lol. And I didn't want to keep the same idea. The Dai Li, in this story, use their methods for truth only. They don't actually brainwash. I know some of you might have wanted a longer "reunion" for Zuko and Katara, but now is just not the time for that. :P Be patient, my readers! Aang was only awake for a couple of seconds when Katara revived him in the show, I think, so that was why Zuko wasn't awake long.

**NOTE**: A lot of people were wondering: Is Zuko the Avatar? The answer is NO. There is, however, some connection with the spirit world that will come into play a little bit. :)

**Character Q/A** for reaching **200 reviews**. Some questions were very similar, so I didn't repeat questions-if you don't see yours, that's why! Unless I forgot it on accident, so let me know if I did. Next session will be when we reach **500**.

**For Katara:**

"How did you feel when Zuko took that first breath?" - Relieved and happy, above all else.

"Did going into the fire scare you?" - Yes!

"What were you thinking when you saw Zuko's glowing white eyes?" - It scared me...I didn't expect that.

"If there is anything, what do you miss most about the Black Games?" - I don't know if I miss anything, but I did see some incredible things-like the phoenix and white fire. Maybe when I look back on the Games in the future, I'll find things I miss. Right now there's too much pain.

"Aren't you afraid of Ozai's wrath when he realizes you resurected Zuko instead of Azula?" - I'm terrified of facing Ozai.

"How do you plan to deal your relationship with Zuko now that he is back?" - I...don't know. I haven't really thought about it. I mean, if I'm not locked in prison, I assume I'm going home..

"What was going through your head as you successfully brought Zuko back to life?" - It's hard to pinpoint exact thoughts. Seeing him alive kind of froze everything else I might be thinking.

"Now that you saved Zuko, what will happen to you and how much danger are you in?" - I guess we will find out.

**For Bowen:**

"Do you ususally get a lot of girls, or do you just flirt because you can?" - I do a lot of things because I can. ;) Woman seem to enjoy me-why deprive them?

"Who did you lose?" - You're asking the wrong question.

"How do you really feel about Katara?" - Kat is...unexpected. She's got some good stuff going on.

"Do you forgive Katara a bit for killing Jet?" - Mentors don't hold grudges for tributes doing what they have to. We've all been there.

**For Lu Ten:**

"Now that you've interact with Katara, what is your opinion on her?" - She is foolishly brave and loyal. She never gives up.

"Are you still angry at Katara now that she's revived Zuko?" - Yes and no. Some things, memories, stay with us forever, no matter how much we wish they didn't.

"What does Katara symbolize to you?" - Zuko's downfall.

**For June:**

"What were you thinking when Katara used the spirit water?" - That I hope it works.

"Were you actually expecting the plan to work?" - I was ah, on the fence. Katara wouldn't believe in something so much if it wasn't a possibility, though, so I decided to give her the benefit.

"Why are you willing to go this far to help Katara bring Zuko alive?" - Why not? She needed me.

"How's your love life lookin?" - Hah, I don't have time for a love life.

**For Ozai:**

"What did you feel and think when your own son, Prince Zuko, kissed a Water Tribe peasant (Katara) during the final battle of the Black Games?" - It was most disappointing.

**For Iroh:**

"How do you about the success of Prince Zuko's revival?" - There are no words to describe it.


	6. The Verdict

**A/N:** Thanks for waiting! I've been on vaca so I haven't been able to write as much. And just so you know, I combined the prologue and chapter one, so that's why you see six chapters and not seven. ;) Enjoy!

* * *

"It is impossible to suffer without making someone pay for it; every complaint already contains revenge." - _Friedrich Nietzsche_

**Chapter 6 - The Verdict**

The man Zhao mentioned—Jee, the old Head of the Elites—starts talking first, going over details about the Games and my necklace. Zhao doesn't hesitate to chime in, earning disapproving sounds from Joo Dee. Trust her that even in such a serious situation she still cares about good manners. The flames dance majestically behind the Fire Lord as he sits with his chin resting on his hands, listening with an intense concentration. Occasionally he raises a hand when the Elites start talking over each other but other than that, he's silent.

I have no choice but to just wait awkwardly. I haven't been asked a single question yet and the longer I stand here, the more anxious I feel. If anything, it's like I'm an uninvited guest who has yet to be noticed. Bowen and June haven't been mentioned at all. I wonder if that's a good or bad thing.

Finally, Fire Lord Ozai holds up a hand and waves the Elites away, all except Jee and Zhao, both of which he asks to stay. Those gold eyes find mine, and just like with Zuko and Azula, I'm frozen in the gaze of so much heat. It's not just the stare, though. Everything about him is intense. The way he's looking at me makes me shift uncomfortably, like I'm about to become a science experiment or he's going to murder me in my sleep.

He moves his hand to stroke his long, pointy black beard. "Such a paradox this is, isn't it?"

I blink, realizing with delayed surprise that he's talking to me. "S-Sorry?"

"To become a victor, you have to kill to win. But you are a victor, and you did just the opposite."

I almost point out that I did, in fact, kill someone—three someone's, actually—but I have a feeling mentioning that I killed his _daughter_ would only be suicide. Even though I think Pakku might hate me right now, I'm sure he's silently yelling at me to keep my mouth shut.

So I do.

The Fire Lord gives me a scrutinizing look. "You are a Waterbender." It's not a question.

"Yes." He raises a brow at me and I can practically feel Joo Dee dying from mortification. "Your Highness," I add, forcing out politeness. It almost kills me.

"You are not a healer."

I shake my head. "No, Your Highness."

"Yet I saw you kill my son. And then I saw you bring him back to life. It should not be possible by any mortal in this world."

Bile rises in my throat but I swallow it down. "I'm not a sorceress or dark spirit if that's what you're implying." I almost smack myself for my outburst; this time Pakku does react by shifting ever so slightly. "Your Highness," I add quickly.

"Of course you aren't. But that does not explain how you managed to smuggle an element into the arena?"

Jee takes a step forward. "Your Highness, as I said earlier, I personally inspected each and every token taken into the arena," he says. "The necklace, as I recall perfectly, was empty."

"Oh, that's because this is _blessed_ water. Is that right, Brother?" The Fire Lord turns his head slightly toward Iroh, who has been silently standing near the dais. "Is that what you called it?" It can't be clearer how unlikely he thinks this to be true.

Iroh nods. "Yes, the tears of Tui and La. It is said that the tears cannot be taken from the oasis, that it is if you are scooping air."

"Somehow I find it hard to believe water can _appear_ from thin air," says Zhao dryly.

The General ignores Zhao, his attention still on his brother. "If what I have read is true, then these rumors are wrong. The water is there, but it will not appear for just anyone. It is a rare gift that it did for Katara and only the spirits can answer why it did."

My necklace in question has already been handed around the room, inspected and put under scrutiny like it's some sort of weapon of mass destruction. Now, it dangles from the Fire Lord's pale hand, catching the iridescent glimmer off the fire. It feels wrong for him to be holding it and I have to fight an impulse to snatch it out of his grasp.

Zhao opens his mouth to speak, but Ozai simply holds up a hand to silence him. "I have heard your theory, Brother, and I have heard from the Elites and Katara's team. Now, I must hear from Katara, and we will proceed from there."

Joo Dee shifts uncomfortably as everyone's gaze seems to fall on me.

_Now is not the time to freeze up, Katara!_

I take a deep breath, and the heaviness settles again it. The truth, the whole truth, catches on my tongue, ready to spill forward, but the satisfied look on Zhao's face is enough for my mind to push it away. "The necklace belonged to the chief's daughter," I explain. "My family doesn't have a lot of food, and we were low on money, so I stole it, thinking I could sell it. My only other piece of jewelry is my mother's pendant, and I didn't want to lose that in the arena. So I brought the stolen necklace instead, as a reminder of home. I couldn't think of anything else to bring."

My eyes shift slightly, catching Zhao's stunned expression. I almost smile at it, but he recovers quickly. Angry now, determined to bury me.

"Then how did you know about the water?" he demands. "How did it work for you? What kind of…dark spirit have you conjured up to help you?"

I almost laugh at him, but the intensity in which the Fire Lord is still staring at me sobers me up.

"I've only read about such a thing," I answer him. "I had no idea that kind of water really existed. I didn't know until after the Games. I would have gone to someone on my team, but I didn't think anyone would believe me."

"Prince Zuko's body was burned with Everlasting Fire," says Ozai, like I could somehow forget. "Yet when you healed him, there were no burn marks. No sign of fire penetrating his skin. How is this possible, and how did you retrieve him?"

This is the part I hate, but lacing lies with the truth is the best way to go. "I…had help."

Zhao looks impatient. "From?" he demands.

"Not a dark spirit," I can't help but say; his lip curls in response. "Bowen, from Province 6. He kept Zuko's body safe inside the tomb and then used bending to get his body out."

The Fire Lord's eyes flash, the flames behind him sparking with intensity; Zhao actually swears. I'm glad I can't see Pakku's face but I feel Joo Dee jerk at my side.

"And why would he help _you_?" Zhao sneers.

This is the other part I hate. My face flushes, which I suppose is better for my case, but I still want to die because of what they will all think of me now. "Because I paid him most…effectively, if you know what I mean. Surely his reputation does not escape you."

I can actually feel the disgust from nearly everyone in the room; Joo Dee visibly flinches away from me in shame. And yes, I realize suddenly, they do all know of Bowen's reputation when it comes to ladies. At least Iroh knows this is a lie.

"I told you to get rid of that boy long ago, Your Highness," says Zhao, the first to recover. "He is conspiring against us! He is not worth—"

"Silence, Zhao." Ozai's voice, like Iroh's, does not need to be raised. It's sharp enough to cut through metal. "Despite his…ways, you know why he is here. Bending gold is most impressive, even for him. It seems he has not disclosed the entirety of his skill level. I would say it has been quite a while since we've had a talk with our mutual friend, wouldn't you say so, Brother?"

_Mutual friend?_ What does that mean?

"Indeed," Iroh agrees. "But if this is true, technically he did not break any laws, Ozai. There is no law against removing a body from a ceremony."

"Does there _need_ to be?" Zhao practically shouts. "Your Highness, this is madness. Keep the boy if you wish, but send her to the Boiling Rock and be done with it."

The boiling _what_?

The Fire Lord says nothing. He just continues to stare at me with that intense, heated gaze, as though he can somehow read my soul.

"If I may interject, Brother," says Iroh. "There is also no law for bringing back the dead, as unlikely as it may be."

"You seem awfully concerned," Zhao comments dryly.

"I am concerned of what the Capital will think when they find out the girl—the latest victor—who saved their prince has been given a life sentence, or worse, death. More than that, we pride ourselves on abiding by the very laws we created." Iroh turns to face the Fire Lord. "Brother, are you really going to punish the person responsible for giving back your son?"

Ozai's eyes meet mine. His voice, when he speaks, sounds softer than I've ever heard. "You should have brought back my daughter."

The words hit me so hard it's as if I'd just been slapped in the face. The room falls into an uncomfortable silence—even Zhao has nothing to say to that.

When I finally find my voice, I say, "I saved Zuko because it was the right thing to do. Because I wouldn't be here without him. He _deserved_ to live, more than anyone else. You are his father. Surely you believe the same."

"No, I do not." His voice rings coldly in the spacious room. "Prince Zuko deserved what he got—a knife in his heart. He was given the opportunity to regain his honor. He failed the moment he chose not to ally with his blood. He is the reason—" Ozai stops short, cutting himself off with what looks like painful restraint. His voice has risen higher than I've ever heard. Whatever he was about to say seems to have triggered some dark, terrible memory. He close his eyes a moment and when he opens them again, the look is gone, replaced with cool indifference. "You leave me in a very tight predicament, Katara. The severity of the situation does not escape me—the Capital _saw_ what you have done. You are, to them, considered a hero, but in reality, you are far more and far less than that."

I have no idea what his final statement means and he gives me no time to figure it out. He stands and moves down from the dais until he he's in front of me, boring down with heated fury and power. The rest of the room fades away as I'm consumed with the severity of his stare.

"Leave us," Ozai dismisses, without looking away from me, and yet I know he's talking to everyone _but_ me.

All I can think, suddenly, is that he's going to kill me. I know there are no Watcher's in this room and no one can save me now. I stand no chance against him in a fight. Who knows what will be said of me? Some angry Capital citizen killed me while I was roaming the city. A servant stabbed me in my sleep. It will just be another lie the Capital dishes out to the world and everything I've done will be forgotten.

But my dad won't. He'll never forget. How I won the Games only to be killed for my actions that follow my win. He didn't see what I did. Only the Capital did. But word will travel, and eventually he will hear of it. What will happen to him then? Surely he will not be punished because of me, right?

Hit with this new wave of panic, I start to come up with bargains that will keep my dad alive and safe. Pakku and Joo Dee make sounds of protest but one look from the Fire Lord puts them into silence and forces them from the room. I can tell Zhao wants to stay, but thinks better of asking—Iroh on the other hand shoots me a look that I think should mean something but I'm too panicked and out of it to decipher it.

Abandonment. That's what I feel when the doors shut. Even though I know they don't have a choice, I still feel bitter about it. All of them have left me here alone. No Elites, no Guards, no General, and no team. Just me and the Fire Lord. It takes all my willpower not to cower in a corner, but no longer can I hold his stare. Instead, my eyes fall to the marbled floors, wishing they can suck me up.

"You do not even possess an inkling of the power my daughter had," Ozai hisses, circling around me like a predator stalking its prey. His long robes drag across the marble, the dark red billowing behind him like a waterfall of blood. "Like her grandfather, she was a true prodigy, mastering Firebending at the age of twelve. And what are you? A poor Waterbender from Province Nine with no superior skill. Nothing special. A fluke of a victor."

I say nothing.

"She scored a perfect before the Games, and you scored a nine. By definition, in no way logically should you have bested her. But you did. And yet…I cannot deny that I admire your cleverness in her demise."

This is the last thing I expect to hear. I whip my head back up to face him, taken aback. I had to of heard wrong.

The Fire Lord seems to read my mind. "The Black Games prays pity to no one, and no one is an exception, not even my own blood. You think I should despise you for killing my daughter? But no, I do not. If she was weak enough to be killed, then she deserved to die." It's not just the words, but the way he sounds _disappointed_, that stuns me. "I do not despise you for my daughter's downfall —I despise that you chose to _waste_ that water on my son."

I gasp and for a moment, I forget I'm looking at the Fire Lord. All I see is a father, a cruel, terrible father who has no love for his only son. And it breaks my heart.

"How can you say that?" The words slip out before I can stop myself. "He's your _son_."

"He is my _weakness_," Ozai clarifies harshly. He turns away from me then and makes his way back to the dais. The flames behind his throne dance menacingly as he takes a seat. "Your story would have fooled anyone—it was certainly well thought out—but you miscalculated the things_ I_ have seen. You knew exactly what that necklace contained."

I blink, forcing myself to breath steadily. "I…don't know what you mean."

"_Do not lie to me_!" The Fire Lord's voice is sharp and cold, making me flinch. "I watched every second of the Games. I have seen every last detail, every moment, every drop of blood you lost and every lie that slipped past your lips. I saw you fiddle with that necklace—I saw you _fail_ to save your brother. You may not know how it works, but you knew it existed in that necklace."

He knew. He knew all along. I can see it in his face, that no matter what kind of lie I come up with, it will not convince him. I almost forgot about my actions in the Games. Sokka's death, I remember parts of it clearly, but other things are a blur. It's like the memory begs for me to forget and always remember at the same time.

With a sinking feeling, I remember.

_"I—I've got this. Remember?" My hands are shaking so badly I can't even open it. Sokka's hand closes over mine and I look back at him, not from his touch but from the coldness of his touch._

_"This is not meant for me," he says gently, tapping the necklace lightly with a bloody finger._

_"Don't you dare say that," I snarl. "Don't tell me when I can or can't use it."_

_Sokka smiles and it's so sad I want to cry. "There's nothing inside, Katara."_

I never said anything about healing water, but the implication is there. It's not something anyone would notice or accuse me of, until now. Now, when the fact of the matter is that I did pour water from that necklace. The pieces are all there if anyone takes the time to put them together—apparently the Fire Lord has. And for whatever reason, he doesn't want anyone else to know he knows but me.

I feel, suddenly, like an animal trapped in a corner with no escape. I close my eyes, hoping the feeling of the walls closing in will pass.

Ozai takes a deep, satisfied breath, knowing he has me cornered. "I should kill you just because I can, because you are challenging the very laws I have created by blurring the lines, because you are cunning and a liar, because you have _wasted_ that water."

I open my eyes. "Why don't you?"

"Because it is not that simple," he says, his voice eerily calm. "Because you deserve to live with the consequences of your actions. And killing you would be considered unjustified, for you have not committed such crimes by our laws to deserve death."

I almost sag in relief. Iroh is right. The Fire Lord is a heartless, cold man, but in his own twisted ways, he abides by his laws. That doesn't mean he won't hire someone to slit my throat in my sleep, I guess, but legally, I won't be publically executed.

"So…you're not going to kill me?" I venture tentatively.

Ozai leans forward. Even though there's a decent distance between us, he might as well be standing right in front of me. His voice is a low purr. "When all of this is over, you will wish I did."

I swallow hard. He is keeping me alive for reasons he admits to—like how I didn't break any serious laws—but I can't help but suspect he's keeping me alive for reasons he's _not_ telling me, too.

"The only crime in which you are guilty for is stealing, and for that you will be punished." Ozai straightens. "You will be lashed thrice."

I nod once. I've already been lashed about ten times back at home. It hurts terribly but I can handle it. What's another mark to add to my already scarred arms and wrists?

"You do not possess the ability to infiltrate our screening system. Who helped you?"

I've already been prepared for this question, but it still bothers me when I answer it. "Bowen."

"Bowen was your only accomplice?"

"Yes."

"Then I will deal with him personally."

"If I don't deserve to die, neither does he," I blurt out against my better judgment, because I can't stand the thoughts of being responsible for his death. And because, whether I want to admit it or not, he's kind of a friend now.

Ozai smiles, but it's not a pretty one. It's cold and steely, sending ice down my spine. The way the lines on his face crack makes it look like he hasn't smiled in a long time. "It always amuses me when law breakers plead to avoid death, for they forget that often times living is the worst punishment of all. Perhaps you, like him, will learn the same lesson."

What does _that_ mean?

"You will not face a trial," he adds. "But you will remain at the Capital for the next week, in which a ship will be prepared to deliver you back to Province Nine." He grasps my necklace—which he had let dangle from the arm of his throne—and examines it closely. "Very curious, this water. For such a weak element, it has given citizens of the Capital a spark that only fire could create. But if it does not exist, there is no spark." He crushes the necklace in his fingers. Tiny fragments of glimmering silver shatter to the ground.

The Fire Lord looks up at me, expressionless. "You are alive, but you are not forgotten. I will be watching you, very closely, Katara. And when you return home, do not forget it."

* * *

When someone breaks the law in Province Nine, they are taken to three places: the whipping posts, the firing squad, or the prison. I've never been thrown into prison—I don't even know _where_ it is in our province—and no one talks about what happens in there. The first two places are public displays, that way everyone in the province is reminded of what happens when we break the law. The whipping post is the most common punishment for _minor_ offenses like stealing, speaking out of line, lying, and bending in ways that are considered offensive. Sometimes we're tied up and whipped across the arms and wrists. Sometimes it's the back. Depends on the Guard and the severity of the law broken.

The firing squad is the most dreaded, because that's the harshest punishment you can receive—death. I don't know all the ways a citizen in Nine can receive the death penalty—I know murder is one, obviously. And I know that the Head Guard has five others on his or her council. Those six deal with the serious crimes. For the death penalty, all six must be unanimous in their decision. Unless, of course, the Fire Lord overrules it. He has to sign off on every firing squad request. I wonder how many he reads a day. How many he's denied, how many he's approved.

Right now, I'm forced to my knees, my palms held up toward the ceiling as two Guards hold me in place. With my eyes sealed shut, I'm able to visualize the whipping posts back at home. It's freezing when the Guards rip off our clothing, exposing our skin to the frigid air. A crowd is usually watching. The last time I was there, it was because Sokka had stolen two fish, but the Guard thought it was me. I didn't correct him, not even when the fiery whip came lashing down across my arm. Sokka had been furious, but he's done that before for me anyway, so I thought we were even.

Now, there is no falling snow or chilling air, no one to watch but three Guards and the Fire Lord, watching with cool indifference. When the whip strikes down, I jerk, but don't cry out. A couple of years ago I would have, but not anymore. My skin has toughened up, or maybe it's just me.

Another lash. This one hurts more, because it's across the tender spot below the crease of my elbow. Blood drips down my arm. When the Guard raises the fire whip one last time, Ozai stops him. He moves to stand in front of me and I tense up, knowing what's coming. He bends slightly, towering over me as I look up at him with hooded eyes.

"I do admire your spirit, but I will have to break it."

This time I do cry out when the Fire Lord's fury whips across the inside of my wrists.

* * *

**A/N:** Thanks for reading! Finally our first glimpse of Ozai and I have to admit, he's not easy to write, haha. One thing that's interesting about Ozai to me is how he strictly he abides by his laws, something we saw in the series. He banishes Zuko because he refused to fight in an Agni Kai, and most likely banished Ursa for murdering Azulon. Even though both were family. So in my mind he wouldn't kill Katara just for killing Azula in a game he supports because she didn't break any serious laws by ressurrecting Zuko. Doesn't mean Katara is safe and dandy though..and as Ozai says, living can sometimes be cruel...

Lots of stuff to come, guys. Get excited! Oh, and Zuko next chapter. There's that too. :P

The next character Q/A will be at **500 reviews**. :)


	7. Awakening

**A/N:** Well, the wait was a bit long, but I have a surprise for you guys! In honor of Zutara Week this week, I decided to use the prompt "faded" to re-write Zuko's final scene in TBG in his point of view. I'm going to include it at the end of this chapter. Warning: it's pretty sad.

* * *

"Every time I close my eyes  
It's like a dark paradise." - _Dark Paradise_, Lana Del Rey

**Chapter 7 - Awakening**

The days pass painfully slow and my daily routine becomes repetitive. I wake every morning to Joo Dee's terribly annoying sing-song voice. We eat an extravagant breakfast with the rest of my team that could feed Province 9 for a week. Pakku still won't talk to me, too angry about what I did; Hama is more forgiving, offering occasional kind words but otherwise spends her time tending to the potted flowers on our floor.

After breakfast I try to leave our floor in the plaza, and two stationed Guards outside the door stop me every time. I ask Joo Dee if my dad has sent any more letters. Her answer is usually a pleasant shake of her head, but yesterday I finally got one. It's shorter than I expect, but most people in Province 9 have no reason to write to anyone outside the province. I'm not even sure, aside from the victors, if it's allowed. I wouldn't put it past the Capital to read them. My dad probably knows this and that's why it's so brief. I made sure when I wrote back that I didn't put anything that will get him in trouble. I haven't told him about what I did for Zuko yet and if he already knows, he's pretending like he doesn't.

Joo Dee then offers me tea or some kind of distraction, but I just shake my head and explore our floor. I didn't pay much attention before, but everything is decorated to match our province. Lots of whites and blues, some décor that reminds me of the ocean. On my second day of exploring I found a net that was strung up in the bathroom. Province 9 is known as the fishing industry and since my dad has been an angler practically all his life, I know a thing or two about netting and rope.

So that's what I do for most of the day; bury myself in rope and netting, weaving the brittle strands into something new. Keeping my hands busy is the only thing that keeps me sane when all I want to do is scream. I'm a prisoner who isn't even given the decency of being told that I'm one. The Guards won't let any of us leave—the Fire Lord's doing, of course—but they won't tell us why. I know why, and so does everyone else, but it's infuriating that everyone is acting like we're all staying on this floor out of choice. Joo Dee already lectured me about the consequences of my actions, but I could tell she was at a near loss of words because of the shock of what happened. I suppose I should be thankful that we're not thrown into a prison cell in some dungeon, but somehow this still feels miserable.

At least I have this. It's amazing how much time passes when I concentrate on the netting. Yesterday I ripped a new hole just so I can waste time fixing it again.

Somehow June managed to escape punishment. She told me the Guards were so concerned with what was happening to Zuko that only one of them seemed to notice her before she bailed out. I don't know what happened to that Guard but June's casual shrug when I asked left my imagination reeling.

I haven't seen Bowen at all and June has no idea either; though, she reminds me, he's still a mentor for another province so there's no reason I should see much of him. She seems confident that nothing serious happened to him but I just don't know. I'd never admit it to anyone, but there's a tiny, dark, irrational part of me that feels like he deserves any punishment he receives for mentoring the boy who killed my brother. Whenever I see his face, I always think of Sokka. Not just because Jet is the reason he's gone, but because Bowen's mannerisms remind me so much of him. It's a conflicted feeling that I've had since I met him.

_But you wouldn't have saved Zuko without him. A life for a life._

No, I realize. Bowen is not responsible for anything Jet did in the Games; no more than Pakku or Hama is for me. We all made our own choices in the Games. If I was being honest, killing Jet didn't even give me the sense of closure I expected. I thought avenging my brother's death would somehow ease my pain—and while it did briefly, when my adrenaline was high, I still feel a little empty. He isn't who I'm angry at the most. I'm angry at myself.

My fingers snag on a particularly tight knot and I break through the brittle rope, creating a straggly gap. Great. Now I've really done it. I start to mend the netting, but for some reason this particular section just won't work with me. Frustrated, I pull the netting harder, creating more loops and knots, but I just can't get it. My fingers move at rapid speed, shredding and tearing. Why can't I fix this?

"Katara?" The concern in June's voice, and her sudden appearance, is so startling that I look up. "You're bleeding. Are you okay?"

I glance down in surprise. Oh, she's right. My fingers are woven into the netting, cut and bleeding. I didn't even realize in my frustration. This only makes me angrier. "This stupid thing—I'm trying to fix it," I say.

"Maybe you should work on a new one," June offers.

"No! It's not _broken_. It just needs someone to fix it."

June reaches out and touches my shoulder; I jerk in response. "I think it's beyond fixable."

For some reason this makes me really, really angry. I look up at her with heat in my eyes. "So you're saying you don't think I can do it?"

"I'm saying you can't fix everything." She pauses, those dark red lips pursing. "Or everyone."

I blink, wondering if we're still talking about this net. I decide I don't like the way she's looking at me so my eyes shift down and I start weaving again, ignoring the sudden throbbing in my fingers. "I can try."

June sighs and when she reaches toward the net, I think she's going to rip out of my hands, but she just plops on the ground and starts following my lead and nets with me. She doesn't say anything as we sit together, piecing together the bloody and tarnished remains of a once perfectly put together net.

* * *

We finally finish the net the afternoon before I'm supposed to leave. June says she's going to pack and asks if I want to help. I should jump at the distraction but seeing all my costumes and materials June used will only remind me of something I want to forget.

I decide to sit put, letting Joo Dee serve me the tea that she's been dying to do. She fills my head with mindless chatter, going on and on about things I don't care about. I catch something about a dinner and a tour but I'm not really listening. I scan the living room, looking for something else that can offer distraction, when there's a knock at the door. A half second later a letter is slipped under the crack. Pakku snatches it up before I have the chance to even blink. He unrolls the scroll and scans over it. I watch his cold expression slack, the emotions pouring off his face. He looks up and meets my eyes for the first time in what feels like ages.

"Our departure has been postponed for three days," he says.

Joo Dee gasps and nearly drops the pot of tea she's holding. I don't know why she cares—the Capital is _her_ home. It's not like she has anyone waiting in Province 9 to see her. "What, why?"

"The Capital doesn't want any ships leaving or coming in. They want all their security to focus on the Coronation Plaza."

"Why?" Joo Dee and I echo.

He looks like whatever he's about to say he doesn't want to. "The…prince has awoken. He is to be re-crowned tomorrow, if he's up to it."

I jump out of my seat, feeling more alive than I've felt all week. Even though I remember the distinct sound of the beat of his heart, part of me can't believe I'd really done it. Not until now.

"He's awake? I have to see him," I urge.

"The only thing you are seeing is the ship that is taking us _home_," Pakku snaps at me.

"I saved his life! I deserve to—"

"You deserve nothing!" he shouts. "The Spirits, the world, owe you nothing! A good deed does not merit a reward, Katara! You sound like a child."

I stare at him, shocked at his outburst. My face flushes. "I—I didn't mean it like that! I just wanted to see him."

Suddenly I wish Hama was here, the one person who always seems to defuse the heated situation. But she isn't and I have no idea where she is right now. Our floor is large enough that she could be well out of hearing range.

Pakku pinches the bridge of his nose. "You stupid, foolish girl. You have no idea what you have done. You managed to do exactly what I advised you _not_ to do. I told you to stay away from the fire siblings and what did you do? The exact opposite!"

"Master Pakku," Joo Dee warns.

"I didn't—" I start.

"You did! And you did worse than that! You did the _worst_ thing you could have done in your situation—you let your own feelings for the prince become your downfall! How can you try so hard to live and then turn around and throw your life away?"

His words ring loudly in the room, echoing painfully in my ears. I take a step back, knocking into a tea table. It feels like my head has been submerged into biting, ice cold water. My face must read something horrifying because the hard lines on Pakku's face soften ever so slightly.

"I—I don't understand how he became my downfall when I'm alive," I say, finally finding my voice.

"Because you made sure he _survived_. You saving him will result in your demise, one way or another. Fate will have its way. I have seen tributes develop feelings for each other in the Games," he says, a little more gently. "But it never ends well. Either one becomes the victor or they both die. There is no happy ending here."

I swallow hard, my throat starting to hurt. Of everyone on my team, Pakku is the _last_ person I want to lecture me on this. It's humiliating. "I don't expect a happy ending for me," I say. "And I didn't do it because…because of how I feel about him. It's not like that."

"Of course it is. You felt indebted to him. You watched the one person who made sure you would live die in your arms, your brother. You were not about to let the other person who was responsible for keeping you alive die as well. You said it yourself—he _deserved_ to live."

I stare at him. "That's not the only reason!"

"No, it's not. But you refuse to acknowledge any other reason." Furious, I cross my arms childishly and look away. "How you felt about that boy goes further than debt. You might not concede it now, but you will eventually. And when you do, you have to realize he will never choose you, even if he could. He is a prince. _The prince of the entire Fire Nation_ _and heir to the throne_. He is possibly the only person you could get away with pulling that stunt of yours. But he is also the last person you could ever be with."

Suddenly my chest hurts and the simple act of breathing is a struggle. "I know."

"Do you, Katara?"

My eyes burn from tears—tears of anger, a terrible habit I've always had. My jaw clenches when my eyes shift to his, afraid if I say too much I _will_ cry.

"Yes."

"You saved him and for that, the Capital will spare you for every law you danced around. Because of whom he is and what he represents. But you have gone against fate by bringing him back."

"Did you ever think that maybe fate wasn't him dying, but me _bringing him back_?" I snap. "I wouldn't even be here without him."

"You're still going to die. Don't you realize that?"

Joo Dee gasps, clutching her heart. "Master Pakku, that is quite enough!"

"We all die someday," I say quietly. "If that's the worst the Capital can do to me, then I'm not worried at all."

Pakku regards me coldly. "Death is never the worst of it. Living with what you have done, that will be your greatest punishment."

* * *

The tears come as soon as I'm alone. Wrapped up in my bed, hidden in the dark, that's when everything I've kept bottled up finally spills forward. I don't regret what I did. Especially not now, when I know Zuko's awake and alive. Really _alive_. If I had to go back in time, I'd save him again. His life means more than mine and I care more about his than my own.

That's what I couldn't manage to say to Pakku. That no matter what happens to me, in the long run, it does not matter. The world needs Prince Zuko far more than they need Katara from Province 9. I know Pakku understand that concept, but he doesn't understand how _I_ could believe it. I could see it in his face. He doesn't understand how someone could care more about someone else then themselves. That's what sets me apart from him and other victors. It wasn't important for me to live so I can live. It was important for me to live so I could give the world the prince they deserve.

That's what I keep telling myself to mend the gaping hole in my chest. Why Sokka had to die and I got to live. There's no other reason. I never used to put much thought into fate and destiny, but I'm starting to believe that I was destined to bring the prince back. Now I just have to live with the consequences.

Pakku's words keep ringing in my ears.

_There is no happy ending here._

I already knew that, and I don't even know if our definition of 'happy ending' is the same. When I was in the Games, my only thought was surviving. With every act, surviving was still in the back of my mind. Even when I kissed Zuko back, I didn't consider what that would mean _after_ the Games. When you're in the Games, you don't think of after. Everything is happening in the present. _Now_ is more important than _later_. But it's later now, isn't it?

So what does it all mean? Now that I can't hide behind the will to survive, using that as my crutch for everything I did. Pakku kept talking about how I _felt_ about Zuko but…how _do_ I feel? Putting it into words is so much harder than I ever thought it would be. I think it's because I know we live in a world where I can't feel for him. The Games, it was different. It was a place where everyone was equals and you were safe from the corrupted society. What you did in there did not matter because likely, you weren't coming out.

Ironic, isn't it? That the one place you can really feel is the one place you are destined to die.

It's too hard to consider my feelings when I know I can't have any. Fine, a different scenario. In a world where he was not a prince and we lived in the same province, would we be friends? Would we love each other?

But if he was not a prince, he would not be the Zuko I know, because everything in his past has shaped him to be the person he is today. He couldn't be the same, so how I would feel could not be the same. In that life, I wouldn't care more about his life than my own.

_I don't want to lose the boy with the scar._

That's when I realize it. Saving him was about giving the world back the prince they deserve. Because his life means more than mine and because he's the reason I'm alive. All of that is true, but something else is, too. There's more to it. A reason Pakku knows I wouldn't acknowledge. It's not even that shocking, now that I realize it, like I've just remembered something that I was stupid to forget in the first place. I don't even know when it happened or when he became more than an ally.

I saved him because I love him.

And none of it matters.

Somehow time seems to slow and speed up all at once. I don't remember falling asleep but when a hand covers my mouth to keep me from screaming, my eyes are already open in alarm. Disorientation freezes my movements, and my brain. The darkness can't quite conceal the armor of a Guard, who looms over me as a dark, impending figure.

"It's me," the Guard assures me, before I can even comprehend what's going on. "I was trying not to scare you." He removes his hand from my mouth and slides off his helmet. Black jagged hair falls into a pair of green eyes that somehow manage to glow in the dark.

"If you didn't want to scare me," I say, "then maybe you shouldn't have snuck up on me in the dark while I'm _sleeping_." It takes a few seconds for everything to sink in. I sit up, pulling my sheet to my chest. "How did you—what are you doing here? And why are you dressed like that?"

"The Fire Lord was so impressed with my bending that he made me a Guard."

I study him for a moment. "You're lying."

His expression doesn't shift, but his eyes glimmer, like they're smiling. "Yes, but your concern for my wellbeing is most illuminating. I risk my life to help you and you don't even ask how I am. Thanks, Kat."

"Maybe because you just scared me to death!" I bite my tongue, forcing myself to lower my voice. My room might be far away from the others but Joo Dee has ears like a badgermole. "Of course I was worried. How are you? What happened?"

Bowen crosses his long arms and leans against one of the four posters of my bed. "Nothing. I told you the Fire Lord can't do anything to me."

Can't or won't?

Somehow I know I won't get anything more out of him. I remember how Ozai referred to Bowen as a 'mutual friend.' I can't decide if now is the best time to bring that up or not. I'm pretty sure Bowen won't tell me the truth on that, either. I wonder if he ever does. His eyes…they're so full of secrets that it's a wonder no one has killed him. Or maybe it's those secrets that keep him alive.

"Hm, you've got a very cryptic look going on right now. I know I look good in armor. No need to be modest about it."

I laugh. "You could use a little modesty in your life, Bo. Anyway, why are you here? And speaking of that, _how_ did you get here? There are two Guards outside my door twenty four seven. I've tried getting out for days with no luck."

"There is _one_ Guard outside your door currently. A dear friend of mine. Legs, all the way to here," he makes a long gesture with his hands, "She owes me a favor from—"

I hold up my hands with a rough shake of my head. "I really don't need the mental image your about to paint. Get to the point or get out."

All humor leaves his face when he looks at me, really looks at me. Concern shines in his eyes. "You alright? You look a bit like you're one step away from losing it."

"I've been trapped on this floor for the past week not knowing anything. Not knowing if someone is going to kill me in my sleep, if my Dad is going to be punished, if the Fire Lord knows about Iroh and Lu Ten's involvement, where you've been, or anything about Zuko. _Nothing_. What do you think?" My voice shakes and I know he won't miss it. I look away, biting my cheek, swearing to the spirits if I break down in front of _him_—of all people—I'm going to beat myself unconscious.

"They've moved him from the infirmary to his bedchambers."

I can feel him watching me, but I have no idea what he expects me to say to that, so I just shrug.

"I can get you inside."

* * *

The palace isn't too far from the plaza, but this armor is heavy and hot—and a size too big—making the trip feel much longer. It's the only way I can walk freely around the city; the only way no one will question me. Guards can do just about whatever they want. Well, not anything, but they're always patrolling so they can go just about anywhere. Bo's long legged friend let me borrow it for the night. When she gave it to me, I couldn't believe how…normal she sounded. She didn't sneer at me like most Guards do, or act like she was superior. She just handed it over with a casual shrug and made Bo promise he'd drop by later. Not that I wanted or needed to know that. She was young, too, probably a couple of years older than me. He explains to me when he doesn't want to be seen, he disguises himself as a Guard. I don't bother asking where he gets all the armor, and soon we fall into a quiet silence.

I study him as we walk, wondering what inspired him to help me, wondering what Ozai had meant. The fact that I'm walking next to the infamous victor from Province 6 almost makes me laugh with irony. Victors are held to a high status and often become friends or accomplices with those from other provinces, but I still can't wrap my head around being one.

"Can't keep your eyes off me, can you?"

I jump, the heaviness of the armor rattling against my body. "Don't flatter yourself. I'm just trying to figure you out."

"Figure me out?"

"Why you're doing this. Why you'd help me in the first place. Well, you weren't helping me, were you?" I say, thinking aloud. "You did it for Iroh. What does he have on you?"

He looks at me sideways, but all I see is the metal of a mask and black slits where eyes should be. "The General and brother of the Fire Lord doesn't need to _have_ anything on anyone. He gives an order and you do it. You take orders from ordinary Guards all the time. Iroh is more than ordinary, as you know."

"This is different. When we first met—" Suddenly something occurs to me, my mind switching pages. "What do you do with your armor?"

Even though we're both wearing helmets, I can feel the incredulity in his gaze. "Wear it, obviously."

"No, I mean when you go home. To Province 6."

He stiffens at my side, but doesn't stop walking. "This is my home now."

I on the other hand do nearly stop. "You live _here_? But…you're a mentor for Six."

"I go back before the reaping. If the tribute selects me as a mentor, I mentor them. Then I come back here."

I know Bowen is treated like an idol and is the favorite victor, but this is way too much freedom for him. It doesn't make any sense. We're almost to the palace now, so I speed up my thought process, trying to put together this impossible puzzle.

"I thought you didn't like it here," I say.

"You assume," he corrects. Vaguely I notice him twirling a dagger between his fingers—I didn't even see him pull it out—and I hope he puts it away before another Guard spots us; we've already passed several patrolling the streets. "You think everyone's opinion of the Capital is the same as yours."

"I—Are you saying you _like_ it?" I halt mid-step, my hands flying to my hips. "You support how they treat us? I know it's easy to get caught up the glamor of the Capital but don't you remember what it's like back at home? It's not fair for anyone to live like this when children are starving around the world."

He stops a few steps in front of me and glances slightly over his shoulder. "It has nothing to do with what I support. There is nothing for me back in Six, Kat. I'm allowed to live here, so I do."

"And there's something for you here?"

"A very special someone."

I'm shocked to hear the singular use of the word considering he's hardly ever seen without many someone's on his arms. "I didn't realize you were a one woman type of guy."

He laughs, but it doesn't sound very genuine. "I'm full of surprises."

* * *

**BONUS:** Excerpt from The Black Games, Chapter 34 The Last Agni Kai

Zuko did not know what it was like to die, and yet he knew he was dying. The pain was unbearable, the kind that spreads through every vein, every cell, down to the core. His body was somewhere between burning and freezing, convulsing on the ground. Each tick of his heart was like the winding down of a time bomb. The pain should have blocked out every sense, and he shouldn't have been able to hear anything, but her screams managed to penetrate through that thick wall of agony.

And he could not help her.

He didn't know which was worse: knowing he was about to die and he could not save himself, or knowing one of them was going to die and he could not save them, either. He was completely helpless. He could not save anyone. Not himself. Not his sister. And not Katara.

_Never give up without a fight._

He heard the words as if someone had spoken them inside his head. Zuko lifted his head from the ground and was blinded by the blur of smoke and blue and gold fire. The arena was chaos, trees uplifted and branches burning to ash. He could not see the golden phoenix, but he could still hear them—hear the sounds of battle and pain.

He had to do something.

Zuko swallowed hard and pushed himself up to his knees and hands. Every limb felt like it weighted a hundred pounds. It took every ounce of control not to shake. Teeth ground together tightly, a hiss escaped him as he pushed himself back onto his heels, pressing his palms firmly into his thighs to keep from falling over. His very core, his chest, was throbbing with fire, making it very difficult to move. If he could just—

Without warning or expectation, a canon shot off. Zuko whipped his head up just as a body slammed into him. The impact jarred him and he crumpled forward into thin, but strong, arms, his face burring into waves of familiar thick hair. Matted with blood, dirty, it should have repulsed him—and yet he had never smelt anything better in his life.

Katara. She was here. _Alive_.

He couldn't see her face, but it sounded like she was crying. "You're so stupid."

The irony of her words did not escape him. He tried to laugh, but it hurt too much. Then, a thought occurred to him. One so obvious that he wasn't sure how he didn't comprehend it sooner.

"Is…Azula?" He couldn't bring himself to finish, and her silence was his answer. Zuko could not find anything to say, didn't understand the gaping hole in his chest that had nothing to do with lightning. Somewhere in his disorientated haze he recognized relief. He didn't have to kill his sister. She was free.

His eyes burned, like he had rubbed sand in them, but no tears would fall. Maybe it was because it had been so long since he'd cried that his body couldn't remember how. Katara still held him, and the prince could not remember the last time anyone had held him like that. He never needed anyone to. Not since he was very young, when his mother had been here. But that was a very long time ago.

Zuko felt, suddenly, the need to say the obvious, because she deserved to hear it. "You…won?"

She nodded against his neck. "I'm so sorry."

Zuko wanted to tell her not to be sorry, but his brain felt dislodged from his body. He felt light and heavy in her arms; the pain was somehow starting to fade—or maybe he was going numb. Either way, he was relieved he did not hurt.

The prince jerked when he felt what could only be tears land on his neck. "Don't cry." His voice sounded unfamiliar, barely audible and weak. Not the voice the prince of the Fire Nation should have. "You're going to win…Katara."

"No. I'm going to heal you and you're going to be fine and we'll have our rematch, like you promised."

Always so hopeful. This girl never gave up.

Zuko felt himself smile weakly. "You can't."

Even with his dimming vision, he did not miss the flare of her eyes. "Yes, I can! Stop telling me what I can and can't do!"

He couldn't believe that, even in his current state, she still had the power to infuriate him. But yelling at her would take too much energy and she wouldn't listen to him if he did. He'd have to show her reason. He took a deep breath—and it hurt so badly he was afraid he wouldn't be able to talk.

"And then what?" he managed. Zuko blinked, trying to get rid of the haze in the corners of his vision. He had to get this next part out. "You heal me, and then…what? We try to…kill each other? No. There has to be…a victor. And I'm dying."

_And I won't let you die._

She gripped his shoulders and leaned back, searching his face. He could taste the salt in his mouth when his lips twitched, trying to reassure her. He watched her face shift, watched the emotions flitter across as realization finally sunk in. She was like an open book; it was always so easy to read her. But now, when he saw her face break, he wished he couldn't read it quite so clearly.

She knew he had to die. And he could see how much that hurt her.

_You can go home now_, he tried to say, but the words died on his lips. His hand somehow found hers as she shook; or maybe he was the one shaking. There were so many things he wanted to tell her. So many things he wanted to tell his uncle, Lu Ten, and even his father. They were all watching. He _should_ say something to them, anything at all.

But he couldn't, because in that moment, Katara leaned down and pressed her mouth hotly to his. Suddenly he was more conscious of her than he had ever been of anyone in his life, of the feel of her hair in his fingers, of the softness of her lips, of the taste of blood and tears in his mouth. There was something surreal about knowing this would be the last kiss of his life.

Katara ripped away from him all too soon. She whispered something into his ear, her breathing shaking.

He felt himself smile again. "Is this…you saying goodbye?"

"Do you trust me?"

A few weeks ago, he would have hesitated. Not because he wasn't sure of the answer—it would have been _no_—but because he would have wanted to give the answer that would better help him in the Games. Play the right angle. Now, there was only one answer and there was no hesitation.

"Yes."

"With your life?" she breathed.

"Yes."

Her whole body tensed, and then Zuko's world exploded. He felt the blade pierce his skin, the shock of it almost drowning out the pain. His eyes widened and all he could see, suddenly, was her face against burning embers of the arena. Colors and pictures swirled in and out of focus. A soft, comfortable darkness started to swallow him up and Zuko knew in that moment that he wanted the last thing he remembered to be those eyes, even if they were glistening with tears. He stared at her and watched, rather sadly, as that blue faded into nothing.

"I'm so sorry," Katara whispered brokenly, the knife shaking against his chest, against his bleeding heart.

_It's okay_, he thought. _It belonged to you anyway._

* * *

**A/N:** I'll just end on that heartbreaking note. I have to say writing it in Katara's point of view was hard, but Zuko's might have been just as bad. (Even in third person) Hope you liked it, either way. Might be the only time you see Zuko's point of view, lol. I know this chapter doesn't seem like a lot happened, but it was necessary for Katara's emotional growth. She's got a lot of heavy stuff going on that she has to learn to accept and let go. (I also know I promised Zuko...this chapter got too long so I had to cut it. Next chapter, I promise!)

Some reviews were lost because I combined the prologue and first chapter to avoid confusion, so I apologize for that. Thank you for reading!

**Review Responses:**

**Vaulter: "when exactly did Zuko fall for Katara?"** - I'd have to go back and read through the chapters becaus a specific moment doesn't stick out to me. I'm not even sure if there really IS a specific moment. You'd think I would have planned it, but that's the fun thing about writing: it happens on it's own. :)

**Destiny Crusader: "WHAT DID YOU THINK OF THE LOK FINALE?"** - Loved it! I think they could have used one more episode though, because Tarrlok's story took up a lot of time in episode 11. Episode 12 was a bit rushed but overall I enjoyed it. Mako's lightning bending while being bloodbent is one of the most impressive things I've seen. Major points for him. And all the Makorra..my feelings were gushing, lol.

**lauriedoriew: "As for Ozai, I think you've pinned him pretty well. He's definitely law abiding, but I'm sure we'll see more of his cruel side too."** - Thank you! He's very hard to write, I think. We definitely will see his cruel, and heartless, side to him later on.

**Sophia: "I was discussing this with a fellow FF reader and writer and we both agreed that we enjoy this story (this and the Black Games together) exponentially more than the Hunger Games. Is that bad ;)?"** - Thank you so much! I've had some readers tell me this and honestly it's a huge compliment. I think part of it is because this story deals with characters we all know and love; whereas we don't really know the other tributes in THG very well. :P

**PANTS: "I've realized that this is one of those Still Delicate-like (I don't know if you've read it or not, but you've written Rose/Scorpius, so I guess you have)"** - I have read Delicate, but not Still Delicate yet! I didn't think I'd it because I try to avoid characters being pregnant, but Delicate was so hilarious. I loved it. Thank you for the comparison..it's an honor because Delicate is one of my favs! I'm so happy to hear I inspired you! That makes me feel good. :) And thank you for catching those errors. They bug me too when I post and realize I forgot to correct something, lol. It's funny how you can read something 100 times and still miss mistakes. :P

**Jazzi: "why would katara's whipping not be public, wouldn't ozai wan't everyone to turn against her or something to show her wrongs and demolish their hope of a good leader (katara)?"** - Well, if she was whipped publically for being wrong, that would show the Capital she was wrong to bring back their prince, whom they adore. It wouldn't send the kind of message Ozai wants. It would probably make the people angry, and that's the last thing Ozai wants. They are all too afraid to rise against him but if you make people angry enough, they get over their fears. They also don't really look at Katara as a leader yet or a rebel because her motives for bringing Zuko back didn't come across as defiant or like she was making a stand. In THG, Katniss's berry stunt is supposed to come off that way, but Katara's intentions were not the same.

**Born Waterbender: "Did you get the name like Long Feng from the ATLA show, or did you make it up?"** - Yes, he's from the show! He's the leader of the Dai Li in the series. A very slimy, cunning character. :P

**PanicAtTheEpicness: "I don't know how nice Mrs Pettyfer is to the characters, so there's still that off chance that Zuko could dieeee!"** - Haha Zuko could still die. I will admit there are some character deaths..in this story and in the final story. I won't tell you who, obviously, but if it makes you feel better, I don't kill characters for fun. Each death happens because the plot needs it to.

**Gasping for Breath: "Will we ever be able to see the wise, funny, and slight crazy Iroh we all know and love or just the serious side of him?"** - Yes! Not perhaps as much in the show, just because this is a somber story. But you will eventually get to see that side of him. :) There just isn't a lot of room for humor yet because of the games and what happened.

**ManiacMily: "Who will play the "gale" part?" **- There really isn't a Gale part..and there really isn't a Peeta. Simply because Katara doesn't have a childhood crush/best friend and Zuko is far from Peeta. There are some characters who are inspired by those in TBG, like Bowen obviously is for Finnick. SPEAKING OF FINNICK. Just thought I'd let you guys know Sam Claflin has been offered the role. He played the prince in Snow White and the Huntsman and Phillip in Pirates of the Caribbean 4. He's not my ideal choice but I'm okay with the casting...he's athletic and nice to look at. :)

**NotAgainstDarkSide: "Do you feel that Zutara is a bit like Dramione?"** - I think there are similar vibes...but Katara and Hermione are so different. And Zuko and Draco are very different. They do share the "I want to please my family/father" thing, but Draco has moments where he could really become great and he doesn't. It disappointed me. He also comes across as a coward..and Zuko is anything but that. I guess it depends if you're comparing season 1, 2, or 3 Zutara to Dramione. Obviously season 1 Zutara is more similar than say, season 3, where they are friends. :P

**stormsky13: "I also loved how you put so many little references to the actual series."** - Thank you! I like to add some similar elements from the show, as well as THG, into this story. Trying to mix in some canon in there. :P

**VanCloude: "I hope that you don't follow the story line too closely, I lost interested in Catching Fire and found Mockingjay nonsense"** - They are quite a bit different enough, I think. There will be some similar elements, but I'm adjusting them to better fit the ATLA world. :)

**EbunnyLove: "The Legend of Korra so far? I'm a huge Mako fan, are you?"** - Love it! And I adore Mako. He got so much heat for how the love triangle ended but I honestly love him. Bolin gets all the love and I'm not a huge fan of him yet. He's a bit flat for me as a charater. Funny, but that's all. I plan on writing an AU Makorra in the future..where Mako is actually an Equalist. :)


	8. Prince

**A/N:** This chapter is LONG. And there are probably a ton of typos that I missed. Which I'll go back and get in time. Hope you like it anyway. :)

* * *

"Hope is the companion of power, the mother of success;

for who so hopes has within him the gift of miracles." - _Samuel Smiles_

**Chapter 8 - Prince**

Even at this hour, the palace is full of Guards, but no one gives us a second glance. The few servants we pass cast downward glances when we walk by. I can almost feel their fear and it makes me feel slightly guilty. I know what that feels like to be afraid of what a Guard might do just because they can.

As we continue through the dimly lit corridors, my mind drifts to Sokka, remembering all our late night adventures. He would be so proud of me if he knew I was dressed like a Guard, lurking through the palace. He'd consider this quite a victory. We used to sneak around Province 9 all the time, going places we weren't supposed to, looking for food, or just to explore out of boredom. Sometimes we made it back unseen; other times we were caught and punished.

Bowen murmurs something but I don't catch it. I'm too busy admiring the paintings on the walls and the intricate detailing in the décor. Some of the paintings are larger than I stand, beautiful landscapes with dusk skies and green, flower filled valleys. A painting of a beach catches my eye with its golden sand and dark, midnight blue waters and shiny, red roofed homes dotting along the shoreline. I wonder if this beach is a real place. It looks too pleasant to exist in a world like this one.

We pass more servants who are busy shining the floors and dusting the sconces. It's hard to remember this massive, luxurious place is a _home_—Zuko's home. I can't imagine growing up in a place like this. I think Sokka and I would have played hide and seek all day if we were allowed.

I come to a standstill when my eyes land on Fire Lord Ozai. Not him, but a painting. Next to his painting is a man that bears a similar resemblance. Both are wearing long red robes trimmed in gold, a five pointed crown on their heads. Next to him is another man, his beard long and pointy, white as snow. The same gold eyes, the same crown, similar robes, but a dated style.

"This is the royal gallery," Bowen murmurs. He grabs my elbow so I stop staring and continue walking. "Every Fire Lord has a painting."

I turn my back on them, a shiver running down my spine, as though those sharp gold eyes can see right through my mask.

Bowen takes many turns, like he's been here a thousand times. I guess I won't be surprised if that's true. I'll just add that to my list of things I wouldn't have guessed about him. Once, we pass a Guard who jokingly says to us, "Who's the small guy?" talking about me. I pale under my helmet but Bowen doesn't miss a beat.

"New recruit."

The Guard laughs and continues down the corridor. The sound is foreign to me. I've never heard a Guard laugh like that before—at the humiliation of civilians, sure, but not just out of humor. Not good naturally.

We enter what Bowen tells me is the east wing. The corridors are narrower, giving the impression of a more secluded area of the palace. Bowen pauses, just before we round a corner, and says, "This wing belonged to the princess and prince—well, I guess it still belongs to him. Don't go snooping around. His room is up the stairs at the end of the corridor." He looks down at me, his voice lowering. "I'm going to switch with the Guard now. We got here sooner than I expected so hopefully he won't mind giving up his post early."

"You sure there will only be one to worry about?"

"Only one is assigned to watch his room at night. At dawn, they might send two. The Guards are rotating in four hour shifts right now."

"How can you possibly know that?" I ask, gaping at him.

He ignores my question. "He might not even be awake fully," he offers softly. "Don't get your hopes up."

My throat suddenly feels dry, my heart hammering in my ears. "What if he doesn't want to see me? Maybe I should just…see him and leave. Not say anything."

Bowen is quiet for a moment. "Did you come here to see him or did you come here to talk to him?" he asks thoughtfully.

"I…I don't know," I admit miserably. It all hits me very suddenly that I'm here, in the palace, about to see Zuko for the first time since the Games. I'm so afraid of going into that room that I can hardly see straight. What if he remembers me killing him? What if he wishes he had died? What if he can't remember any of it and forgot me?

_Stop it, Katara! Get yourself together._

Bowen places a heavy hand on my shoulder, the metal of our armor clinking together. I look up at him, wishing that the face staring back of me wasn't made of cold metal. "Go in, see him, and then decide. If he asks what you're doing, just say you thought you heard something."

"My voice—"

"Just disguise it. Make it lower, deeper. It's already muddled from the helmet. Besides," he adds, "it's much harder to recognize someone's voice when you're not expecting to hear it."

I nod, trying to calm down. I can do this. I'm making it a bigger deal than it is.

"Wait a few minutes after the Guard leaves before you come, alright?"

"Yeah," I say, still nodding. "I'll just walk around this corridor or something."

"Don't go in any rooms," he says sternly. "And don't get lost."

"I won't."

He tips his head to me and then vanishes around the corner. I stand here, stalk still, too paralyzed to move. My eyes look up and down the corridor. It's completely empty, no servants or pacing Guards in sight, just the soft flickering of fire from the sconces along the walls. I'll just wait here and if I hear any movement, I'll start walking like I have somewhere to be. Right now I just can't move. Not when I'm standing in a wing that belongs to Zuko and his sister—the sister I killed.

Despite being warm from the nerves I shiver, wondering if it's possible for Azula's spirit to haunt me. I know I shouldn't be here. Not because I'm obviously not allowed, but it just feels wrong; so wrong that my skin prickles and my throat chokes up. As much as I wanted to see Zuko, I'm starting to regret taking Bowen's offer. I don't belong here.

I don't even know what to do once I get inside. What should I say to him? If I can find the ability to talk at all, of course. Even when I was planning on saving him, I didn't really stop to think about what happens after. It goes back to the mindset of the Games—after never really existed. Is Zuko even the same person? What if he's completely different? During those weeks we were together in the Games, I felt like I knew him, but now it feels like I'm about to meet a stranger.

Wrapped up in my own thoughts, I almost don't take notice of the sound of boots moving across the hard ground. I move to peek around the corner and watch a Guard as he comes down the stairs and—Oh no, he's coming this way.

Panicking, I take two steps and throw myself into the nearest room, shutting the door gently behind me. I press my ear to the door, listening. My heart is pounding so loud I'm surprised he can't hear it. My hand tightens around the knob as his footsteps near—and then gradually, they fade into nothing.

I breathe a sigh of relief and let go of the knob; my fingers are shaking. I glance over my shoulder instinctively, and then do a double take. A huge claw-footed desk dominates the dark room, a pile of scrolls stacked neatly on one side, a brush and ink on the other. Golden sconces with dripping, lifeless candles line the blood-red walls. A bookshelf takes up one of the walls completely, stacked with various colored and sized books. The room is spacious, practical, but what makes me stare is the large window behind the desk.

I can almost hear Bowen now.

_Don't go into any rooms. Don't snoop._

I ignore the nagging voice and move toward the glass. Below is a gated, open courtyard with stone paths weaving through the hedges and grass. The moon casts a soft glow across the small ponds. Flowers of all shapes and sizes dot across the courtyard. I wish it isn't so dark so I can see the colors. This looks like a peaceful place, and certainly beautiful. I wonder how the person who owns the desk could ever concentrate when such beauty sat behind them. I bet one of the many paintings in the palace is of this courtyard. I don't know how someone couldn't paint it.

I turn to leave, and bump into the desk with my leg; a small frame falls face down. I set it back up, and my fingers freeze on the frame. It's a portrait painted in black and white, the ink fading into a dullish grey. A family of four, all wearing dark robes. The young boy is wearing Zuko's crown, but he has no scar.

I pick up the portrait and wipe the dust from the canvas. Closer inspection, I can see that it _is_ Zuko. He can't be more than ten years old, the serious expression looking out of place on such a young face. I recognize Ozai and Azula as well, and even in this picture, the sharpness of their features is hard to miss. The woman…it has to be their mother. It's hard to tell—the portrait is pretty old, the coloring a bit worn and faded—but her full lips appear to be turned up in the corners in a soft smile. Her hair is straight and long, past her shoulders, and her eyes look exactly like Zuko's. She has a hand on his shoulder.

I smile and set the frame back down. With the amount of dust on the desk, I don't think anyone has been in here in a while. Not even the servants, apparently. Which is sad because this picture is the only personal touch to this otherwise plain room—why would it be here, in an unused room?

Now I can practically hear Bowen screaming in my head. I run out of the room and head down the corridor, putting the picture in the back of my mind. I walk up the stairs quietly and find Bowen, standing in front of a set of double black doors. And thankfully, he's alone.

"What took you so long?" he hisses under his breath.

"I wanted to make sure that Guard wasn't coming back." I take a deep breath—knowing that if I keep standing here talking to him I might just back out—and crack open the door.

I'm instantly drowned in darkness. The only light is a small flickering candle by a massive bed in the center of the room. The bed is made of a black wood with four pillars and a canopy. It's raised on a sort of platform, elevating it off the ground. The east and west walls are draped in thick red curtains, leaving my imagination to wonder what's behind them. The wall opposite me is plain, a charcoal grey, no paintings or décor. Even with the warmth of the crimson drapes and the throw on the bed, I can't help but find this room to be very cold. Very empty, except for the bed, which isn't warm at all. And there, resting in the center of it I can make out an outline of a body.

I move quietly, barely breathing, until I'm standing next to the bed. My heart jumps into my throat at the sight of Zuko. He's lying on his back, messy hair brushing across his high cheekbones. The throw is pulled up to his bare chest, both arms lying on top of it. The dim lighting from the candle sharpens the hard lines of his forearms and biceps, giving his body the effect of a chiseled statue. The way he's sleeping looks stiff and uncomfortable, but his expression is enough to ease my worry. I've never seen him look this way before, so at peace. Even in the Games when I had seen him sleep, there had still been a crinkle in his forehead, a slight worry in the back of his subconscious.

I don't know how long I stand here. I hate the idea of someone watching _me_ sleep, but seeing his chest move, knowing that he's breathing, he's alive—it chokes me completely, paralyzing me here. Everything I thought of saying to him before seems to vanish, the words freezing in my throat. Before I can stop myself, I reach out a hand and brush the hair away from his eyes, away from his scar. He stirs slightly, and that's when I decide that the ice in my throat isn't going to allow me to talk.

And part of me knows that I'll only be making it harder if I do. I just needed to see him. That's it. I turn, tiptoe across the ground, reach the door, and—

"If I wasn't so weak I'd have disarmed you by now. What are you doing in here, Guard?"

The sound of his voice stops me completely. It's _exactly_ the same. Still raspy, still with an edge of superiority and pride, only a little tired. I don't realize until now how much I missed it.

I keep my back to him, too afraid to turn around. Subconsciously, it bothers me that he refers to any Guard like that, as though they all have the same name. I clear my throat and try to imitate my best Sokka voice. "My apologies, Your Majesty. Thought I heard something. I didn't want to wake you unless I had to."

There. Not as bad as I expect.

"My Father has assigned you to my room?" His tone of voice suggests he had not been aware of this. And, underneath confusion is a twinge of pride at the gesture, though I know better than to think so highly of the Fire Lord.

"Yes, Your Majesty."

A pause. "Aren't you a little short for a Guard?"

_Wow, really? He's the second person to say that to me!_

My temper flares and I fight to control it. "No. Goodnight, Your Majesty." And before he can say anything else, before _I_ can say anything else, I open the door and step out of the darkness.

The next morning at breakfast, I can barely keep my eyes open. I can't have slept more than about three or four hours. Our table is more crowded than usual because of Nina, Cho and Pema, my artists—unlike June, they don't have to stay here in the plaza. The three chatter on relentlessly. Even in my dazed state I notice they are more bubbly than usual. I find out why when a letter arrives just as we're finishing up.

"The Capital would hereby like to invite the victor of Province 9 and her team to—"

"You're invited to the prince's crowning!" Nina gushes. Joo Dee cuts her a harsh look at the interruption. "And of course, the celebration dinner afterwards! We already knew, but we had to wait until you got your letter. There's going to be a fireworks display! Have you ever seen fireworks before? I bet you haven't, not in the frozen tundra."

Joo Dee seems to recover. She scoots her empty plate away with a bony finger and leans forward, looking at me excitedly. "Oh, the fireworks here are a sight to behold! They shoot them off during the opening of the Black Games; but of course you wouldn't have seen them then."

"No, I was sort of preoccupied that day," I say dryly.

Her smile fades slightly—never fully, not Joo Dee's—and she looks around expectantly, obviously hoping someone will defuse the sudden tension. Hama, who is sitting on my right, places a withered hand gently on mine and smiles. "Won't it be nice to get out of this place for a while?"

"Yeah, you're right," I say halfheartedly, not really agreeing. I look at Pakku, but he's looking down at his plate, his lip curled into a frown. "Well, what do you have to say about this? Trying to come up with reasons for me to stay here? Afraid I'll cause a scene?"

"You have already done that." He says nothing else and gets up from the table, leaving me to stare after him in wonder.

The crowning is to be at midday, when the sun is at its most powerful, several hours from now. Which naturally means Nina and my artists get to work on me right after breakfast. June vanishes into her secret room to work on my outfit while I endure another long bath and waxing session. It's not as bad as I remember and the oils afterwards feel cool and nice. Cho leaves my wavy hair down and pins part of it back. She weaves a few small braids into it.

June comes in after my make-up is applied and slips a gown over my head. I smile at the color. "It's blue. I figured you'd make me wear red."

"You've worn enough of that." June starts to tie up the back. "As appealing as the color of blood is, I thought we'd go with something more familiar to you."

It frightens me that I'm not sure if she's joking about red being an appealing color because of blood. "How did you make this so fast?"

"What do you think I did during the Games? Sat around and watched the whole time?"

"Gee, thanks for your support."

She tightens the back and I gasp. "I said I didn't watch the _whole time_. When I wasn't watching, I was working. Keeps my mind busy."

I think of the net, of how she helped me wordlessly for hours. I look up at her reflection in the mirror, her pale skin and dark lidded eyes. Those thick red lips and inky designs on her arms, a bone sliced through her ear. We grew up in two different worlds, but maybe we have more in common than I realized.

* * *

A half dozen Guards escort our team to the coronation plaza. We take back allies and even a tunnel or two to avoid the general public. It's like déjà vu. It's so surreal I can barely concentrate on not walking into Pakku's back. All I can think about is how the last time I came here I was about to watch Zuko burn. Now I'm going to watch him be re-crowned as the heir to the throne. The only difference is Bowen is not disguised as a Guard. I wonder if he'll be here.

When we enter the coronation plaza, most of the public is standing in the center in front of the balconies, but the wealthy nobles are sitting in the stands along the sides. That's where the Guards take us. When we pass, and people start realizing who we are, whispering furiously, until one person yells, "There she is! There's Katara!"

And then I'm swarmed with flashes of bright white, coming from directions I can't see, and people cheering and clapping, trying to touch me or shake my hand. It's so overwhelming that I almost strike out at a person who grabs me from behind, but luckily Pakku shoves them back into the crowd before I react. I catch a furious shout or two, hearing Azula's name, but they don't make it past the Guards to harm me. We're only halfway to the stands when the Guards decide they've had enough. They start slashing at the crowd with fire whips, threatening they will not hesitate to use them if necessary.

The crowd backs off, still gesturing at me happily and whispering to their friends. I just smile in thanks, hating the attention, not really sure what to say.

When we finally get to our places, I'm seething at June. Everyone is wearing red, black, or gold. Except for Pakku and Hama, I'm the _only_ other person here wearing blue. There's no way Zuko can't not notice me. Not this close to the balcony, and not in this color.

And then, I realize with mild surprise, that I don't want him to see me. That I'm still irrationally afraid to face him. Afraid of how he'll look at me, of what he would say, of what he feels.

The attention of the crowd finally fades away from me fully when Lu Ten and Iroh step onto the balcony. Then, followed by Fire Lord Ozai. The cheering starts up again, but this time it's all directed at the royal family. A canon goes off, making me jump. Then another, and another, and the crowd cheers more loudly. Bright, white light flashes around the plaza, like lightning, but I can't see where it's coming from. My throat tightens, and suddenly it feels like I'm drowning. I can't hear what Ozai is saying—all I know is that I have to get out of here.

"Can we leave?" I ask June, tugging on her arm. "Please?"

She looks at me in surprise. "All that trouble and you don't want to see this?"

"I just…" I struggle to articulate how I feel, because even I don't understand. I just know I have to _go_. "I just can't be here right now."

Something in my voice must have alerted her because she says, "Alright, whatever." She brushes a black strand of hair behind her ear and looks at Pakku. "Hey, Katara wants to leave."

He looks at me then, and I can see the boiling anger. The _knowing_ look on his face makes me hate myself.

"I know. I _know_ I should have to watch this, because I'm the reason it's happening. I just _can't_," I say desperately and wave my hands around. "It's all of this. The crowd, the noises, the light, it's—"

"Too much," says Hama gently. "Hearing sounds…it's never the same is it?" She smiles then, but it's a little sad. "Come, we'll go back."

"Hama—"

"Pakku, I may be an old woman, but even you cannot best me in bending. The sun does not weaken me." To my surprise, he doesn't argue. She places a hand around my shoulders and steers me from the stands. I look back, catching June's gaze. I give her what I hope is a reassured smile.

The Guards don't even look at us, and neither does anyone else. We walk quickly, ducking our heads as though somehow that will hide us. When we reach the end of the plaza, it's like I can breathe again. But then a booming gong rings across the plaza, followed by the loudest cheering yet, and instinct kicks in. I turn—

And there's Prince Zuko. It's hard to see from this distance, but he appears to be wearing traditional red and black armor. He drops down next to Lu Ten, who is kneeling in front of a Fire Sage, facing the crowd. I can't hear what the Sage is saying, but their heads are bowed respectfully.

"The Capital has had quite an array of ceremonies these past two weeks." I'm so absorbed in the one thing I'm trying to avoid that I flinch at her voice, nearly forgetting she is here. "Two crownings, two funerals."

"What are those?" I ask, gesturing to a man who is holding what looks like a miniature Watcher, only this one contains the bright flash that I saw early.

"A new invention from the Capital—a camera. It's similar to a Watcher, except it records a single moment. A picture." She grunts. "Or so I'm told."

"Like a painting that doesn't require paint?"

"Something like that," she says with a sigh. "I don't care much for technology. Hasn't brought us any good."

I can't help but agree. "Do you think the Watchers are live to all the provinces right now?" No doubt they recorded me leaving the ceremony.

"I'm sure they have to. They showed the funeral, after all."

So my dad will see both, too. "How are they going to explain it?"

"A miracle."

I look at her sharply. "People will want reasons. Logic."

"There was a time when that was true," she says softly. Her eyes close, the crinkles around them softening. "Many people have fallen into despair, though they do not give up on hope." She tips my face up toward the sun; I squint at the brightness, but welcome the warmth. "Logic and reason has failed them. But miracles, those do not require anything but _belief_. People are not willing to give up on those, and they will believe in a miracle without logic or reason."

I open my eyes and look back at the balcony. The Sage is now holding up a glittering object—the crown, I think—saying words I can't hear. Then he bends down and places it on Zuko's head. The crowd erupts into more applause as the prince rises to his feet.

Sokka was a logic guy. He believed in facts and reasons, but when I asked him to explain bending, he didn't have answer. But me? I've always believed there are some things that can't be explained by logic. Things that are far greater then we can ever hope to understand. And now, especially when I look at Zuko, standing in front of his cheering people, looking like a statue of Agni himself—I still believe in miracles.

* * *

Later in the evening, we're back in the palace in one of the grand ballrooms. It's a little different than the one in the royal plaza. This one is much larger, much wider and taller. The ceilings are painted the same midnight blue dotted with tiny stars, but the walls actually curve upward into a dome. The floors are glimmering gold tile, matching the pillars and silk draped between each one. It's beautiful, but what really hold my attention are the enormous glass windows all along the back wall, stretching from the floor to the ceiling that open up to a large balcony that overlooks the starlit city.

Sokka would approve of this view, but not the dinner, if you can even call it that. There are no normal tables in the ballroom, just a few chairs and mini tables that require you to stand, spread randomly around the room. I see a band in one of the corners, and some of the guests are dancing. The food, as it turns out, is nothing more than bite sized rations that servants go around offering on trays. The first time a waiter approached me, I took one happily, and he's gone before I can ask for another. This has happened several times now and I'm about sick of it. With never standing in place and constantly trying to avoid the royal family, I'm getting a good workout and could use some food.

The room is so big and crowded that so far I've done a good job. Once, a man asks if he can take a picture of me and Zuko with his camera thingy, and I bolt away so fast that I nearly break my ankle. I'm avoiding that man just as much as the royal family. Guests keep talking to me and touching me, telling me how great I am for what I did, but mostly everyone wants to talk to Zuko.

What surprises me most is how Hama was right, that most of these people consider what I did to be a miracle. No one asks me about the water. From what I've picked up here and there, they seem to believe Agni himself gave Zuko back his life, and I was just the vessel. I don't bother correcting them. Mostly because only Ozai and my team know the truth, and I plan on keeping it that way, but also because I've learned that at the end of the day people are going to believe what they want. And if thinking that Agni is looking out for them gives them hope, who am I to take that away?

With trying to avoid the camera man, the royal family, and most of the guests, I've lost my team in the crowd. Once, I think I see Bowen, but he's flanked by so many women that I'd have to put on a suit of armor just to get in there.

I edge out onto the balcony, covering my face with the golden fan I was given when I arrived. It's not real gold, but a rough fabric that's been painted. I'm pretty sure it won't do much damage, not like Suki's, but it works as a nice face shield none the less. Not that June's blue dress is helping.

I walk the length of the balcony until it stops. Most of the guests are congregated near the windows, but way on the end out there, there's no one. My hand slides along the railing until it hits the wall of the palace, where it ends. I lean over, looking up and down—and there, up to the right is small alcove. It's part of the design, jutted into the roof and walls. It looks like a window sill, but there's no window. It reminds me of home, when Sokka and I would hide in every nook and cranny we could find.

Before I change my mind, I hoist myself into the railing and grip the edge of the palace. I've been higher before, but it's still a good fall down. I inch slowly along the railing. My foot slips; I lose a shoe and my fan, but keep my balance. I take a large half step, half hop, and land shakily in the alcove. It's a bit narrow, but I wedge myself in and slide down, sticking my legs straight out. The bottom of my dress dangles over the edge.

"My Lady? Are you quite alright?" a meek voice asks, and then, before I can do anything, a face leans into view. It's a servant, carrying a silver tray, his gold eyes dancing wildly. He doesn't seem to know if he should look at me or not. His concern is evident, but he's also afraid. Of me, or of what I might do, I don't know.

"I'm fine," I reassure him. "I just wanted some fresh air." He eyes me warily and looks down, over the railing, at the city below. "What are you carrying?" I ask, eyeing the silver tray in his hand, hoping to distract him.

"S-S-Sea prunes, My Lady. Are you sure you're alright? Should I call for someone?"

"No, no. Really, I'm fine. Sea prunes are my favorite."

The man lifts the silver slid and awkwardly leans the tray over to me. I reach forward and grab one of the tiny glasses filled with two sea prunes. I reach for another, but he's already withdrawing.

"Hey, Sir?" I call out to him. "Excuse me."

"Yes, My Lady?" he asks timidly.

"Can…can I have another?" I feel strange asking as soon as I do. I'd be laughed at if I asked someone at the market for more food that was free—nothing is free in Province 9.

"Yes, of course, My Lady." He extends the tray again, and this time his hand doesn't shake quite as bad. "You can have as many as you like."

"Really?"

His gold eyes flicker to me cautiously, and then he smiles. It's such a hesitant gesture that I wonder if he's always been afraid of doing it. "You can have the whole tray, if you like. We have plenty in the kitchen." He takes a deep breath and then extends to tray to me. "If it delights you, please take it."

I burst out laughing. "Won't I look a bit silly?"

"Not as silly as you do sitting up there."

The servant nearly drops the tray and I have to jerk forward to catch it.

"Y-Your H-H-Highness," the servant stammers, "I apologize. I just found her and I…Well, I was trying to—"

"Why do you have an entire tray of sea prunes?" Zuko interrupts, stepping forward and leaning over so I see his face. The shock of seeing him, of _this_ being the first conversation we have, it stuns me for several seconds.

"I was hungry," I finally say, recovering after a few coughs, hoping that somehow I don't choke on my humiliation.

Zuko turns to the servant; who, to his credit, hasn't fled in fright. "Go to the kitchens and bring us two trays filled with everything the chef has prepared for the evening. Don't let anyone follow you."

"Yes, Your Highness," says the servant, and he vanishes around the corner.

The prince watches him go and then slowly turns back to me. My gaze seems to work from the ground up. The armor makes him look bigger, fiercer. I watch him swallow, watch his jaw clench and unclench. He doesn't say anything, but his lips twitch as he sucks in a breath. As always, he gives off the impression of tightly coiled power. Even now, I can feel how tense he is. His expression is carefully blank by the time I survey his face completely. His eyes though—they're watchful, hesitant even.

I wonder how I must look to him, sitting in an alcove holding a silver food tray. Missing a shoe, to top it off. Who knows what my hair looks like at this point, all ragged and wavy.

Zuko clears his throat and raises a hand to run it through his hair; he pauses when his fingers nip the crown on his head, thinking better of it. His hand clenches and he drops it to his side. He looks to the side, staring down at the city.

"How did you find me?" I whisper, gripping the tray as if it was a lifeline.

"I never lost you." A muscle in his jaw tightens. "I expected to see you earlier today, mind you. The whole city turned up, but not you."

_I was there_, I want to say. _You just didn't see me_.

The silence that falls makes me ache. His tone is so formal, so overly neutral that it makes my stomach clench. "Go enjoy your party." My voice comes out ragged.

The prince takes a step forward and grips the railing tightly, his knuckles going white. "They told me I was dead for over a week. My soul would have traveled to the spirit world, but I can't remember any of it. It's like…like I _know_ I've been there, but I can't tell you anything about it. They asked me all sorts of questions that I couldn't answer. I wonder why that is. Why I can't remember something that happened so recently, yet I can remember the exact coloring of the hair pen my mother wore when I was a child."

He takes a deep breath. "All the questions they asked..all the healers they sent. It's like everyone expected me to not be me. I don't feel any different."

"You aren't any different," I offer quietly. "Death doesn't change who we are."

"I should still be dead."

"Are you saying you wish I hadn't saved you?"

"Yes, and no." He doesn't elaborate. "When I woke up, I was confused. They thought I forgot about everything, so they tried to tell me at first that I hadn't died. But I remembered the knife. I was dying anyway. You just sped up the process."

I blink and a warm tear slips down my cheek. "I'm sorry."

He looks at me then, eyes wide. "Don't be. I owe you my _life_, Katara. There's nothing that—"

"Can we just…Look, I know what it feels like to have your life saved. I might not have died, but you saved my life so many times in the Games. We can go back and forth and argue over whom did the best job at it, or we can sit here and talk about anything else. I don't even know your favorite book. Or your favorite color. Which seems ridiculous considering I've kissed you and saved your life, yet I don't know either of those things."

He stares at me. I feel my face flush in embarrassment. Why can't I just learn to stop talking?

Zuko blinks and the blank state is gone, replaced by something softer. He moves toward the railing without saying a word. I make room on the alcove, shifting to the side. With much more grace than I had done, he leaps from the railing into the alcove. Because it's so tight, he has to sit sideways, bending one leg so that I have to sit on his boot, his other leg dangling over the ledge. My right arm rests on his knee absentmindedly.

"That servant should have been back by now," he says irritatingly.

"You probably scared him away. You tend to intimidate people."

"Do I?"

"Yes, you do. And you know you do, so stop pretending like you don't."

His lips curve up slightly in the corners. "Do I intimidate you?"

"Sometimes." I pick up a tiny glass and shovel the sea prunes in my mouth. They're plump and juicy, just the way I love, with a sweet and salty taste. The sudden heat I feel from Zuko's gaze makes me blurt out something stupid. "I'm just glad you're here."

_I mean here, like alive, not here with me, in this tiny space! I think, right? Oh, great, even I don't know what I mean_. His silence only makes it worse. My face heats up. I look down and shift around the glasses, trying to look preoccupied.

"I'm glad you're here, too," he says quietly. I bite my lip, refusing to look up, afraid of what I'll see, and then he says, "Gold."

This does make me look up. "What?"

"My favorite color is gold."

I have to fight back a snort. "Like your crown? Like jewelry?"

"No, like the sunrise. When I was about five, my mother took me to…" I sit back and plop another glass of sea prunes into my mouth. The servant finally arrives with the food, and bless him; he put everything in baskets, thinking it will be easier to fit in here then two trays. Zuko is nicer to him this time, and even gives him a gold coin. The genuine smile on the servant's face makes my night.

Zuko continues talking, opening up and showing more to him than I ever expected to see. When I ask if guests will worry about us, he tells me he already spoke to Lu Ten before he came out here. He told his cousin to let my team know I was with him. He then tells me that there are so many people, that most likely, no one will miss us. I doubt no one will miss _him_, but I'm so curious about the time he went to a play—Zuko, watching a play!—that I let it go.

I don't notice the fireworks until Zuko points them out to me as they fall over the city. What stuns me more than the colors and the sight of them is the fact that I don't hear them to begin with. For once in what feels like a very long time, I don't jump at a sound that resembles a canon.

* * *

**A/N:** In case you didn't know, the "aren't you a little short for a Guard?" line was inspired by the Star Wars line, "aren't you a little short for a stormtrooper?" I just couldn't resist..sounded like something Zuko would say. Anyway, hope you liked the chapter! Originally Zuko was going to confront Katara on the balcony, but I liked the cozy, and awkward, setting better. :)

Since we've reached 500 reviews—which is crazy you guys OMG thank you!—that means you get to ask one character a question. As long as it's not spoilery, I'll answer it. ;)

Review Responses:

**MHZutaraFanGirl: "my favorite part had to be the arguement between Pakku and Katara about her emotions toward Zuko."** - Thank you! Pakku and Katara's relationship is something I've really enjoyed writing.

**Gasping For Breath: "The only thing I didn't like about the LOK Finale was when Amon (or Noahtok) was in the water and Mako was FIREBENDING at him."** - I thought of lightningbending too, but then I figured why he didn't do it was because he was so drained in that moment. I mean when he was firebending right after electrocuting Amon, you could see how hard that was and he nearly fell over doing it. Then Amon proceeds to bloodbend him again and slam him into the ceiling and walls, lol. So since lightningbending takes up so much energy and concentrating, I'm betting that's why he didn't do it-he was too drained.

**Phantom of Runes: "I am slightly jealous at your ability to avoid the questions us the reviewers throw at you! Hinting at things, refusing to throw out spoilers: come on! We're like dogs begging for the treat!"** - Hahaha. You have no idea how hard it is NOT to give away spoilers. I've had Zuko's death and ressurection planned from the start and it was killing me not to reveal it.

**"Please don't start some love-triangle stuff, I think that's what got in the way of the plot in the HG."** - I honestly think the romance in general got in the way of the plot. Which is weird for me to say because I love romance. I just would have liked the series more without the Peeta/Katniss thing. Some people find their story romantic, obviously, but it just irritated me and I didn't find it very realistic.

**ChaosHasCome: "I also just have to tell you that I believe that the writing of Katara's character in The Rise of One has improved ten-fold since The Black Games. Which is saying something because you wrote her brilliantly back then."** - Thank you so much! I'm always so cautious when I write her because sometimes it's hard to remember not to voice MY thoughts when writing in first person. That's why I'm generally not a fan of first person in fanfiction, because a lot of times it comes off as OOC. It's harder to stay in the character's voice in first versus third.

**kibara: "when are you going to start the makkora sory where hes an equalist?"** - I don't know yet! Possibly not for awhile, like in the winter. I can't focus on two long stories at the same time..I don't think, lol.

**rwishka17: "I actually find Mako's character to be more flat. hehe I love Bolin but not Borra."** - Haha really? I think Mako is one of those characters who doesn't flash his traits on big, bright signs. They're more subdued. He's pretty complex, it's just not as obvious as say Bolin or Korra. Hopefully we'll get more backstory on Mako and even Bolin in season 2. I want to know more about their lives growing up on the streets.

And I don't like Borra either. Not even a little bit. lol

**AnnaAza: "It looks like Katara is in a good and bad situation."** - Exactly. She's really just kind of..stuck in the middle. She can't be put to death, but her life will never be normal again because of what she did.

**SparksxFly: "Also, kudos on Bowen. To be perfectly honest, I usually can't stand OCs, but I love him!"** - Thank you! I'm usually not a fan of OC's either, but I've read some stories that had perfect ones. I think it comes down to the point of the OC. If there's no point to them, they shouldn't be in there. Bowen was originally added because I wanted some comic relief, someone who can lighten Katara up a little now that Sokka is gone. But as I was coming up with Bowen's backstory, I realized he's more complex then I ever planned.

**"I hope there will be some action later on similar to in the first story."** - There will be. :) And plenty in the third installment.

**EbunnyLove: "Why is he being re-crowned?"** - Still a prince, yes, but Lu Ten had been crowned as the new heir to the throne when Zuko died. So Zuko's re-crowning was an official way of him gaining back his throne. [And happy early birthday! Hopefully I update before then! lol]

**kat1397: "will bowens lover get introduced eventually?"** - :)

**Black Firelight: "are you going for a remotely happy ending(satisfying) or are you going for a pleasant yet still realistic and rather depressing ending like in the book series that this is based off?"** - The ending of this will end on a cliffhanger. Not really happy, but not depressing. The depressing stuff happens before the end. :P

**akiremichan: "You won't let him have amnesia right?"** - I'll just say flatout right now Zuko is never having amnesia. Or Katara, for the matter. I'm not a fan of that plot device. I find it as a reader really frustrating to read.

**Placid: "I just like how you manage to stay within the bounds of their characters while also bending the limits to your will"** - Thank you! I think that's what's so great about the ATLA characters: they have similarities with many of THG characters. Like Katara pulling a Finnick, for example. Since Bowen isn't from the fishing industry, Katara is, that's why it was more appropriate for her to adopt that distraction versus Bowen. Even though Bowen is loosely based off Finnick.


	9. Heart of Courage

**A/N:** This was a very emotional chapter to write. Made my heart constrict a bit. Hope you like it, regardless. :)

* * *

"One of these days letters are gonna fall  
From the sky telling us all to go free  
But until that day I'll find a way  
To let everybody know that you're coming back  
You're coming back for me" - _Letters From the Sky_, Civil Twilight

**Chapter 9 - Heart of Courage**

I'm going home today.

I almost can't believe it. I remember my first morning at the plaza, when Joo Dee scolded me for making my bed. _They have servants for that_, she said. I've never had so many blankets or pillows before, or a soft mattress to sleep on—I've never had to do anything other than pull a pelt over a thin bedroll. She didn't understand that I wanted to make my bed because, well, it was the first time I really ever could. So I ignored her and made it anyway. And I'm making it now, one last time. I guess I'll be able to buy new beds for me and my dad when I get home. I'll show him how they make them here.

I don't have a lot of things to bring back: my mother's necklace, some clothes that I've worn before and after the Games—June is forcing me to take the dresses, too—and Aang's bison whistle. Oh, and several sacks of gold coins. I haven't counted, but the bags are pretty heavy for their small size. It's supposed to be enough for me and my dad to live comfortably for the rest of our lives, never having to work again. But what will we do? Pakku and Hama are Waterbending teachers, but there's only so much they're allowed to teach. I guess I can follow in their footsteps. I just can't imagine not doing _something_. And my dad? He loves being an angler too much to ever stop. Even with the Guards breathing down his throat. I suspect now that I'm a victor they'll be more lenient.

Breakfast is unusually loud and cheerful. Even Pakku has a little light in his grey eyes. I wonder, with a sense of delayed surprise that I haven't wondered before, if he has a family back at home. I've always seen him in a mentor role, but never considered that he might be a brother, a father, a husband, or a son. I've heard things about Hama, of how she has no family, but I could be wrong. Why haven't I asked?

Joo Dee and June though, I won't see them again for a while. That should be a good thing, because not only does Joo Dee drive me crazy, seeing them means I'm back at the Capital. So why does my chest feel a little tight?

I barely notice the chatter until I hear his name. "Well, one thing I noticed about last night was the fact that you and Prince Zuko both seemed to disappear," says Joo Dee. Her grin is irritatingly huge as she smiles at me over a white cup of tea. "Did you speak with him?"

"Oh, leave her alone," says June.

I appreciate her defense, but what's the point in lying? Lu Ten told them I was with Zuko last night. When we finally decided to go back to the party, we didn't go back together. We also did a good job avoiding each other after that, but every once in a while I'd catch his gaze. My lips would twitch, but then I'd feel Pakku's gaze drift over me like the dead of winter.

He didn't have to say anything for me to get his point. The looks I got when we all walked back to our floor were terrible enough. It's like they all wanted to say something, either to yell at me or ask questions, but chose not to. I was about to blurt out something really stupid when June distracted me with a story about Bowen, how he had drank so much cactus juice that he jumped on a table and started to sing. I wish I had seen that.

I look up at Joo Dee. "Yeah, I did."

"I wasn't the only one to notice. You're the talk of the Capital. Do you know how many sponsors the two of you had combined?" she says, beaming. "Oh, they wouldn't stop talking about you two! Even at the party, why, I practically talked their ears off!"

I grimace. So far we haven't really talked about Zuko, my sponsors, or anything that has to do with the Games in general. Now it seems to spill out of Joo Dee, like she's been bottled up for too long. And maybe she has been, holding back for my sake.

"They even asked me if it was planned—"

I look at her sharply. "If what was planned?"

"The two of you, you know…"

"Okay, stop. I get where you're going with this." I'm just refusing to acknowledge it. Even though Pakku is my mentor, I never worried about anything he'd say. He can be cold and harsh, but I'll take that over a gossiping, drama loving woman. "What did you say to them?"

She blinks at my tone. "I said no, of course. I don't know if they believed me, but if you think about it, perhaps you _should_ play this angle. Just imagine the prince and the girl from—"

I cut her off abruptly. "No. I'm not going to pretend anything. Not for you, and certainly not for them." I stand up, toss my napkin into my half empty bowl of porridge, and stalk from the room. Hama and June call after me but I ignore them. I hear a faint "What did I do?" come from Joo Dee before I round the corner.

My chest tightens uncomfortably. Not because of what Joo Dee suggests for me to do, but because I never consider that maybe Zuko has been doing that all along. Not until now. The idea that I've been used makes me feel dirty and disgusted. Was any of it real? Or was it all a ploy to come out alive? Where does fantasy stop and reality begin? That's been my biggest struggle since the Games. Learning what's real and what isn't. When did I stop thinking of Zuko as a tool for survival? When did I cross that line? Did he ever…?

_It doesn't matter_, I force myself to remember. _Even if he was being genuine, or even if he was just trying to win, it doesn't matter. None of it matters because it doesn't change anything._

I figure if I keep telling myself this, it's bound to sink in and the pit in my stomach will eventually go away.

* * *

The Guards escort us through the plaza. It's quieter now that most of the teams have gone home. Only servants and a few Elites linger in the corridors, none of which pay any attention to us. There's a small crowd outside the plaza, cheering and hollering when we step outside. It takes me a few seconds to realize it's because of me—they're cheering for _me_. At first I feel stunned and even a little flattered, but then I see their patch-less clothes, their shiny shoes and clean hair. They're not cheering for Katara—they're cheering for the animal that won them the bets they placed, the one that brought back the prince.

I ignore them and keep my gaze on Hama's back.

It's midday, the sun at its hottest, spilling golden light across the gleaming city. I won't miss the heat, and while I liked the strong smell of salt in the air when I first arrived, it only reminds me of blood now. I won't miss that either.

One of the ladies cheering at me waves a hand, the green pendant in her ring flashing against the sun. The color and shine reminds me of Bowen's eyes. I didn't get to thank him again, or say goodbye for the matter, but I did find a small note tucked under my door when I woke this morning. It was short and simple, making no sense at all.

_Kat,_

_ Thanks for reminding me why it's worth it._

I probably read the note twenty times, trying to decipher it, looking for hidden clues, but found nothing. He's the only person who ever calls me Kat, so I know it's from him, but I have no idea what it means. Maybe it wasn't meant to mean anything to me at all, just a way for him to acknowledge I'm leaving. With Bo, the possibilities are endless. I guess when I'm back here a year from now I can ask him.

A large stone wall separates Province One from Province Two, Guard's stationed along the top, some even pacing. Four stand on the ground by the exit. A huge boxy hole has been cut through the stone, like an Earthbender decided to blast away a set of double doors. There are no doors now, just ropes of fire, like the giant ones at the Great Gate of Azulon.

The Guards at the exit let us pass, extinguishing the fire. I step thru and look back, taking one final glimpse of the sparkling city, my heart constricting when my mind drifts toward a certain person, just before the flames snap back into place.

Its better this way, I reason with myself. Saying goodbye to him properly is pointless and will likely just make things worse. When I said goodbye to my artists—Nina, Pema and Cho—it was oddly more discomforting than I ever imagined.

Where Province One is at the center of the volcano, Province Two is sort of built into a slant, sloping downward. Right now we're at the very top. I can see the entire province from here, see the red roof homes stacked into the volcano and dotting across the shoreline. The bay at the base of the province is filled with ships, and there, just beyond is Azulon's Gate of fire. Three small wooden carriages, each pulled by two ostrich-horses, are waiting to take us down the winding path of Province Two. They aren't as glamorous as the ones I rode in before. No gold or jewels, a simple dark wood instead. No windows, just a crimson curtain that I'll have to push back if I want to see anything.

The Guards push us into the carriages like we're children. Hama and Pakku are shoved into one with two Guards. Joo Dee and June—I still can't believe they're letting her come with Joo Dee to take us home—are put into another with two more Guards. And finally I'm put into one all by myself, with two Guards of my own. Should be fun.

The ride is bumpy and slow as we make our descent. I remember going up, the nerves and minor excitement of the sights around me, but now going down makes me so much more nervous. I grip the plush seat with my fingers, jerking at every jolt of the carriage. Some time passes when our carriage stops completely. I know we can't be at the bottom yet.

"What's going on?"

The Guards ignore me and get out. I lean over to peek through the curtain, to see where they're going, but the carriage lurches forward again and I fall backwards. Did they decide to walk alongside instead?

Without warning, a body swoops into the carriage silent and stealthy as a pygmy puma. Dressed in robes the color of the night sky, they're nothing more than a black shadow. The intruder lands in the seat across from me. I start to scream, my hand already raised in attack, but then two hands fly out, one gripping the back of my neck, the other covering my mouth. The hood slides off—and all I can do is stare with wide, gaping eyes.

"Not a nightmare this time."

Despite the adrenaline, the fear rushed in me so quickly, I almost laugh. The last time he covered my mouth I was screaming from one of my familiar nightmares.

"You can let go now," he says, and only then do I realize my hand _did_ strike out and grab the fabric at his throat. I let go slowly as he releases my mouth and sits back. I have half a mind to peek outside the curtain again, still concerned with the Guards, but logic tells me he must have planned this, otherwise they wouldn't have left.

Still, they might be listening, so I keep my voice low. "What are you doing here?"

"I don't know."

Zuko's words come out so fast I don't think he even considers them. The stunned look on his face confirms it, as though he's honestly surprised. Then, the look morphs into something more akin to disconcertment, which doesn't make any sense to me. His pale cheeks are flushed with color, his breathing winded, like he's been running. Maybe he has been. Crownless, a pale hand rakes through his hair.

"Look, what you did for me was…" he shakes his head, lost in deep thought. "_Thank you_ just doesn't sound right. It's not enough. Words aren't enough and I'm no good with them anyway. I don't know how to make it up to you because nothing I can do will ever be enough."

He looks up then, desperation shining in those gold eyes, willing me to understand. It's such a childlike innocence that it actually hurts me to see it there.

"Zuko, I didn't save you because I expected something in return," I say gently.

"I know that." He runs a hand through his hair again, frustrated. "But I can't live with myself without doing something for you in return."

Like you haven't done enough already? Like I could have won without you?

"Let me give your province gold," he says.

"They've already received plenty from my winnings. So has my father. We don't need money right now."

Money is the last thing I want.

"Then tell me what to do," he says desperately. "Please." He leans forward and grabs my hands. The carriage jumps as we hit a bump, and his tight grip along the still recovering scars from the Fire Lord make me wince. He doesn't seem to notice my reaction.

I search his eyes, those eyes that I've seen so closed and cold, now looking at me openly and almost vulnerable. I feel my heart constricting, bile rising in my throat. Why can't he just stay away? I know it's his sense of honor and debt that drove him here because it's the only thing that overrules his logic.

I've always admired that about him, but right now I hate it. Last night, the rest of the world didn't exist. For that hour or two that we spent just talking, I forgot about the Black Games. I forgot about everything I lost, the despair that hangs over Province 9, the scars that cover my body, all of it. It was the first time in I don't know how long that I felt free.

Seeing Zuko now, it all comes rushing back. Those short lived moments in the light that, although briefly, blinded me from the consuming darkness that I've known all my life.

"Don't make this harder than it is," I say quietly. "That's what you can do for me."

"Katara—"

"Please don't, Zuko. Just…go."

His face is suddenly unreadable. "You want me to go." It isn't a question.

"I _need_ you to go," I clarify. What I want and what I need are two completely different things. I think, suddenly of what Joo Dee said to me this morning, and a bitter laugh escapes me. "You don't owe me anything, anyway. And we can stop pretending."

He blinks. "Pretending?"

"We became allies to survive. The grey areas, everything else that happened…" My voice fades, because eve I can't understand what 'everything else' means myself. "It helped gain us sponsors, I'm sure. The kiss likely topped the cake. It probably saved my life—your father wouldn't kill someone the people think the prince cares for."

Zuko stares at me, dropping my hands. My skin feels ice cold without his warmth. "Is that really what you think?"

No, but the lie is so much easier to swallow. Easier to move on. I try to shrug, but my shoulders have locked up. I bite the inside of my cheek so I don't admit the truth.

"Then you're wrong," he says coldly. "My father wouldn't hesitate to kill someone if he believed they deserved it, no matter what they mean to me, or to the Capital."

I know.

"Sponsors go for tributes they think will win, not necessarily who they _want_ to win."

I know.

"Look, I don't know if they thought we could win, or if they wanted one of us to win, but it doesn't matter. You were always you out there, sponsors be damned. You're the one who said to me that it isn't just a game to you."

He can mean a thousand different things, but somehow I think I know exactly what he means. And it only hurts me more.

"It wasn't." My voice cracks.

Zuko's face softens and the intensity in his eyes fades just a little. We hit another bump, but I'm gripping the seat with such force that I don't jerk forward. I just hang my head, refusing to let him see my watery eyes. Out of my peripheral vision I see him lean forward. For a moment I feel equally as horrified and anxious that he's going to kiss me, but he simply touches his forehead to mine. His breath is warm against my face. I close my eyes and nestle my cheek gently against his; the roughness of his scar brushes my skin, but no longer does it bother me. I can't help but think of polar leopards in how they show affection.

The prince exhales softly, making an odd sound from deep in his throat. "It wasn't to me, either." His words sound breathy against my face.

"I know," I admit quietly, wishing I can somehow convince myself otherwise.

"But it doesn't change anything."

"I know."

He sighs painfully. "I wish…things were different."

Oh, he is going into a dangerous territory. I refuse to let myself go down the road of what I wish is different. It only consumes you into an unhealthy obsession.

"Stop it." Despite my command, my voice is soft. I swallow hard. "Stop saying things like that…things that don't matter because nothing can be changed—"

My mouth slams shut in shocked silence. When did this happen? When did I start to sound like _him_? He said 'it doesn't change anything.' I said 'nothing can be changed.'

_You don't really believe that, _I think to myself. _You wouldn't have saved Zuko if you did._

Some things can be changed, I decide, but this—whatever _this_ is, was,—cannot.

Zuko pulls back and catches the side of my face with a hand. His thumb strokes along the scar on my cheek ever so gently. Despite being so strong, sometimes I forget just how gentle he can be when he wants to. "Maybe you're right, but it doesn't make anything less true."

I almost laugh, except it's not funny at all. "Since when have you found it easy to say what's on your mind?"

"Since when have you struggled to say what's on yours?"

I smile sadly. "I don't know."

We're almost to the bottom now; I can smell the strong salt in the air, see the ground leveling out. Zuko takes a deep breath, looks away, and then back at me. His eyes are pools of golden sunshine, warm and intense with heat. "I think…I came here to not only try to make it up to you, but to say goodbye."

"It's not really goodbye. I'll see you around next year if I'm a mentor."

His lips twitch into something hauntingly broken. "No, you won't."

He drops his hand and leans back; I have been so captivated by the feeling of his hand on my face that I've been leaning over so far I nearly fall forward with the absence of him. I sit back abruptly, annoyed with myself. "What do you mean?" I ask.

"This is the part where we go our separate ways, Katara."

Even though we're in the carriage, I'm suddenly surrounded by trees and overlarge bushes, the smell of sap and wood filtering in thru my nose. The same words he said to me after the peace offering. The feeling is so similar, so surreal, that I blurt out, "You're leaving me?"

"You're leaving me, actually," he says quietly.

"That's not…not what I meant." I shake my head, trying to clear it. "I don't understand what you mean."

"We might see eachother, but that's all." He takes a deep breath. "It's not safe or smart for us to…what would Uncle say…continue down this path."

I find it almost funny that we still haven't talked about what _this_ is.

"It never was, but we did it anyway in the Games," I say.

"And look how that turned out. You killed me."

I don't even flinch; the sudden coldness in my veins prevents it. "I did what it took to win."

He makes a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sigh. "Just like I said."

"And," I go on, "I did what it took to save _you_."

"You shouldn't have." Suddenly he sounds angry, and that makes me angry. "You should have just let me die."

"Maybe I should have, for how grateful you are!"

"You don't even get it!" he shouts and I flinch, not just because of the power in his voice, but because I'm afraid the others will somehow overhear us. "You can never betray your people, your home, for me, and I can never choose you over my throne! At least if I was dead, neither of us would ever have to even _think_ about those choices."

The words hurt. Not just because he's right, but because he doesn't know how much I _do_ get it. I have barely allowed myself to even consider if I would be with Zuko if I could. At first I think, yes. I could be like Bo and live at the Capital—at the palace, more accurately. But that means I'd be leaving Province 9, leaving those innocent people—my _dad_—who are mistreated and underfed every day. I'd live in luxury while the rest of the world bathes in ashes. I'd be my own personal traitor, turning my back on those who desperately cling to hope for a better world. And that I could not do.

And Zuko? His life has been planned out for him since he was born. I believe in him, in the good in him, and know he can make a difference in our world someday. That water appeared for a reason. Zuko is the kind of person who is meant to change history. I just don't fit into that picture. I didn't do what I did for him so he can throw his throne away, not even for me. _Especially_ not for me. He can only change things if he stays on his path as the heir to the throne.

"I know, Zuko," I say. I lean forward and capture his face between my hands, looking him straight in the eye. "I believe in you, that someday you will bring balance back to our world. And that's why I don't regret saving you. No matter what happens to me, how my life will change because of it, it's you who can change things. _Really_ change things."

Conflict flashes across his face and I can practically see his inner demons fighting inside his head. "Katara—"

"I was so, so wrong about you, Zuko. You want more for your people. Not just Province One, but all of them. You _do_ have a heart. A heart of courage, of strength, of passion, of loyalty. And it didn't take me plunging a knife into it to figure that out." The last part breaks my voice and I smile, trying to fight back tears that come from nowhere.

He leans forward and grabs my face. His eyes search mine so intensely it's like he's trying to memorize my soul. My hands drop from his face to his shoulders, knotting into the fabric. Zuko leans lower, his lips nearly touching mine, our mouths so close our breaths mingle. I close my eyes to erase the image of his parted lips.

"What if you're wrong about me?" he breaths.

"You wouldn't be here if I was," I whisper back.

He makes a sound like defeat, and then his mouth is on mine. Instinct takes over and I yank him closer as though I may otherwise drown. His lips move slowly, hesitantly, against my mouth. For some reason he's holding himself back—I can even feel him trembling as he fights himself—and I wish he wouldn't. A hand cups the back of my neck, the other snaking into my hair. He tips my head back ever so gently, capturing more of my mouth.

His control seems to snap, or maybe it's me. The kiss turns desperate, full of such longing that it actually makes me ache. I taste the familiar fire to his lips, the heat seeming to spread from his mouth and into mine, down my throat and illuminating my entire body. I feel irrationally unsatiable, like I can never get enough of the feeling of his mouth on mine, of the fire that's burning inside me.

And then it stops.

A second later, the carriage starts to slow down.

Zuko pulls back to press his forehead to mine, breathing a little heavy. My own breathing sounds a little shaky, my eyes still closed. "I shouldn't have…but I had to," he says. "Just one last time."

It doesn't have to be one last time, I want to say, but then I remind myself that it does. I won the Games and saved Zuko so we can both live. That's really all I hoped for and I got it.

My heart pounds in my chest. Any second now, someone, a Guard probably, is going to open the curtain to the carriage. "Is this you saying goodbye?" I say quietly.

"Nothing good about it."

"Then don't say it."

He laughs softly, sadly. "What should I say, then?"

"Say…" and then I hear my dad's voice, late at night when he thinks I'm asleep, speaking to who can only be my mother, "Say I'll miss you until I see you again."

A pause. I feel him press something wrapped in what must be cloth into my hands. I want to see what it is, but then his lips brush against my ear. His voice is nothing more than a gentle hush. "I'll miss you until I see you again," he says with absolute clarity. I feel him withdraw, but I don't move. I hear the rush of a curtain, but I still don't move.

When I finally open my eyes, Zuko is gone, and I'm alone. So very much alone.

* * *

**A/N:** Thanks for reading! So, Zuko and Katara were not supposed to kiss in this chapter. Then what do you know, I write it and publish it. THEN remember oh crap, they weren't going to kiss! Can't change it now, haha. Just shows how sometimes I plan things and once I start writing, the plan goes out the window and the characters sort of take over. :P I will say that the real action is about to begin, and from here on out, you'll start to see some Catching Fire similarities. :)

Character Q/A are included! The next one will be if/when we reach 800 reviews. :)

Review Responses:

**IlostTime: "I mean not necessarily the exact same act but could I somehow spoiler myself if I'd read Catching Fire or Mockingjay?"** - Nope! It's different enough that you won't be spoiled. :)

**AnnaAza: "I really think Katara will have problems will cannon and cannon-like sounds and such, which could be a problem. Zuko doesn't seem to have that problem."** - Yeah, it's something that she has to work through. Zuko doesn't really have that problem because he was never scared the way Katara was. Every time she heard a cannon, she feared for Sokka. Plus she'll always associate that sound with someone dying. :(

**SparkleQueen5: "You have wrote their relationship very well, but he he just nervous around her?"** - Thanks! Yeah, they both feel a little awkward because their relationship in the Games was pretty much based around survival instincts. Even when they say, had to sleep against eachother, it wasn't a huge deal because they were preserving body heat. Now if they slept together it has a new meaning. They're adjusting to getting to know eachother outside the arena. Like having a relationship with a teammate outside the game.

**NotAgainstDarkSide: "Btw, do you the Iron Fey series?"** - Um, LOVE IT. Ash is one of my favorite characters. I always tell people to read this series. You hear that, readers? CHECK OUT THE IRON FEY SERIES BY JULIE KAGAWA! lol Especially if you love Zuko. The book series is amazing..it's like Alice in Wonderland meets Narnia meets Amazingness.

**aimee2127: "HONESTLY Katara is NOT a crowd pleaser in this story"** - Haha no, she is not. That's why in this chapter she tells Joo Dee she'd never pretend to care for Zuko to please the Capital. She's never pretended. She does worry for a moment that, maybe Zuko had been doing that, but it was more so a defensve mechanism. If she could force herself to believe that Zuko used her, it would at least make it easier to get over. Doesn't work out though because deep down she does know he cares for her. :P

**Lily: "So is Bo's special someone going to be sonewhat... Annie-ish? (ie, damaged, victor, etc) or is she going to be different?"** - My lips are sealed. :) Bo's past and background isn't something I want to give away through a review response...you guys will get bits and pieces as the story unfolds. ;)

**Anonymous: "Words cannot describe how much I love your writing."** - Aw thank you so much! That really means a lot, especially since I'm writing in first person, which I know so many people hate. So thank you..I really wanted to write somethign emotionally touching.

**kat1327: "are you going to add a sparky sparky boom man and annie inspired charecters?"** - Haha I don't know about sparky sparky, but I've got several familar and new characters that we'll meet, one of which is loosely inspired by Annie and Prim.

**Placid: "I know everyone has their own resons for writing fanfiction, but honestly without fanfiction I'm not sure what I would do to pass the time. It really is a gift."** - I absolutely love writing, and I'm so lucky to have you awesome fans who actually like my stuff, lol. I love the writing part obviously, but I also love hearing what you guys think. It's such an experience that goes beyond just writing. If I ever become a professional author, I hope to have these kind of relationships with my readers because you guys really do inspire me to keep writing. No one in the real world knows I write. It's like my secret hobby, lol. So I'm glad I get to share it with you all. :)

**NaCl: The only thing that can improve this awesome plot and well-written story - on the level of J.K. Rowling - is to tone down on the description. Not many people want to know what Katara found in a dusty room. Everyone wants to see Katara and Zuko kiss"** - Haha! Well, you got a kiss in this chapter! lol But I can say that there are small details/descriptions in this story that are important. I read some advice on writing that said "if it doesn't enhance the plot, why is it there?" So I can say that Katara going into that room was written for a reason. ;)

**RyanSkye: "Your stories are written in a way that they can be watched in my head."** - Wow, thank you! I try to write in a way that you can picture in your head, especially since we all know what these guys look like and their world. :)

**All cats are grey: "I can't believe the chapter ended in such a good way!"** - Haha and then BOOM, this chapter happened. :P I like to have some good moments even in an angsty story. :)

**"And lol at the photographer shipping Zutara!"** - He is obviously the biggest Zutara shipper of them all. lol

**KagomeHime: "For some reason, I think of Bowen as looking like Bumi from Legend of Korra... weird, I know**" - Haha well, the skin tone is about right! He's not quite as dark as Katara, but he's sort of in the middle between water tribe and fire nation skin tone. To me he looks like Noctis from Final Fantasy Versus but with the darker skin and green eyes. That's what I based his hair from. :P

**Ten-Faced: "I want to ask Bowen if he had any family, and who. (mother, father, grandmother, sister, brother)"** - His backstory/family/growing up stuff will be revealed later in the story. :)

Character Q/A

**For Zuko:**

Were you angry when katara didn't come visit you when you were recuperating? - I was sort of out of it. And I didn't know if she was here or had gone home.

How did it feel waking up and realizing you weren't dead? - I was shocked and confused.

Also how did you feel when Katara wasn't at your crowning? - A little disappointed, if I was being honest.

If given the chance would you like to marry Katara? - Uh...I just...woke up. I can't even begin to uh, think about marriage right now.

What was your first thought when you woke up and saw Katara? - That I was dreaming.

How did you feel about Katara's arm being on your knee? - What? I didn't really notice, actually.

Can you please describe your feelings for Katara? - No, I can't.

Why did you follow Katara? - I wanted to talk to her.

What are your opinions on traditional water tribe foods? Namely, sea prunes? - Bland and disgusting.

Was it awkward sitting in that alcove with Katara? - Not really.

What did you think when you saw Katara in a dress? - I thought she looked...different. And beautiful.

**For Katara:**

How did it feel when you were in Zuko's room and he had no idea it was you? - I felt..safer. I was so nervous to face him.

Do you usually tend to blurt out stupid questions? - Unfortunately, yes. Stupid comments and retorts as well as questions. Gets me in trouble sometimes.

**For June:**

How the heck did you become a stylist? - Pays the bills.

**For Bowen:**

What do you think about Prince Zuko? - I don't really know him, but...I think he's a strong figher and has the potential to do great things.

Who were/are you (still) trying to save and is this the reason why you have a very special place in the capital? - That is a very personal question.

What did you think of Jet? - Good fighter. Terrible listener.

What was your relationship with your district partner in your Games? - We were...allies.

**For Ozai:**

How did you get to be such a big douche? - A what?


	10. The Bitter Cold

**A/N**: Thanks for waiting; you guys are the best! I couldn't find the perfect quote/lyrics for this, so if you have any after reading, let me know. Enjoy!

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**Chapter 10 - The Bitter Cold**

Hard, icy snow crunches under my boots as I walk to the White House, the one place in Province 9 that we can get away with trading. Law is that you buy what you can afford, with whatever meager supply of money you earn, but the White House doesn't seem to apply to these terms. Even though the Guards are from the Capital, they are still Firebenders; still have to live here, in the freezing South Pole. They have to eat our food and survive our weather. It's safe to say that they rely on trades as much as we do. They just don't make a scene out of it. At least not while Meng is Head Guard. If the Capital finds out and sends someone else to take her place, we can kiss the White House goodbye. I don't see why it's a big deal—it's not like we're trading things from other provinces, only whatever we can find and buy in Nine—but that's the Capital for you.

Not that I really need to do much trading now. I've got enough money that I almost don't know what to do with it—there's only so much I _can_ do here. I'm just glad Province 9 got a part of my winnings. The White House is still thriving, but the quality in goods has improved since I've come home. Where things like slim bars of soap, twine, and ragged mittens were being traded, it's more common to see loaves of warm bread, fine pelts, and even decent medical ointments under trade. Things that were out of reach several months ago are now attainable, thanks to me. It makes me wonder about the other provinces, ones that have a dozen or so victors.

I guess I'll be finding out soon.

It's been almost four months since I came home. I only know this because of the weather, the way the temperature is dropping and the winds more biting as we head into the dead of winter. If not for the change in weather, I'd probably have lost track as the days blur together. As a victor I don't have to work as long as I don't stir up trouble, and I just finished my last year of schooling a month ago, which means I have a lot of down time now. School mostly consists of reading, writing, arithmetic, and limited lessons in bending. We're allowed to attend bending lessons until we're eighteen, but healing is as advanced as it gets. I think Pakku trains those who have been asked by the Capital to join the Elites, but he won't tell me, and it's all so secretive that I have no idea who is at that level. According to Hama, that's the only time any non-Firebender is allowed to learn bending so advanced it can do some damage, if the Fire Lord wants you, either at the Capital or for an Elite.

My dad and I got a new home, one closer to the palace and three times the size of our little hut I grew up in. We have beds now, actual beds made from stone with a soft mattress covered with fluffy pelts. We even have a kitchen with wooden cabinets, a large kettle that hangs over a fire pit—we can actually afford spark rocks now and what's more, we're allowed to use them as long as we don't do anything destructive with them. Our home is large, even luxurious for Province 9, but it's cold and empty. There is nothing about it that feels like home. It's nice, and obviously a great upgrade from what we had before, but I'm not sure time adjusting to it will ever make a difference. The problem is that Sokka is not here. And he never will be.

About a week ago I got a letter from Joo Dee telling me about the upcoming tour of the Fire provinces. I didn't even realize victors went on a tour of any kind until then. Maybe they told me sometime after I won, but the information obviously didn't sink in.

_ It's part of the honor in becoming a victor, Katara_, Joo Dee wrote. _You are given the rare privilege to see all the Fire provinces, something others can only dream of. After we visit the other three, there will be a huge victor's dinner at the Capital, where you will meet all the victors from every province._

Honor. Privileged. We'd have to agree to disagree on that.

She's supposed to be here tomorrow.

It's early, and the White House isn't crowded yet. I hear several startled shouts, a cackle of a laugh, and whirl around before I too become a target. Rox is at it again, poking random people with her sharp walking stick, warding them away from…well, I don't know, something no one but her can see, apparently. No one really knows her real name, and she has no family to ask. Everyone just calls her Rox because all she ever buys, or looks for, is rocks. We're not allowed to go near the Grey Mountains, but pieces of mountain rock still break off and manage to find their way down to us. Whenever I see one buried in the snow I make sure to scoop it up for her.

Rox is an older woman, probably in her late sixties. People say she's crazy, and when I hear her talking to people or things that aren't there, sometimes I wonder if they're right. But every once in a while she gets this look on her face, a look so serious and alert that you know something is going on in there. She lapses back into her world shortly after that though, before she can say whatever it is she so desperately wants to say.

The Guards don't give her too much trouble, surprisingly. I think they're more afraid of her then they'd ever admit. Her ragged appearance makes Hama look like a well-kept queen. A wider frame and face, her build suggests a plump woman, but years of malnutrition and not caring about health have made her withered, thin, and papery. Her grey hair is stringy and dirty, her eyes a milky grey. She has a lazy eye, and keeps both saggy lids colored with cheap purple powder. Her lips are always sloppily painted blood red. Rox is harmless enough, as long as you don't provoke her or make her too nervous. The other night I had to stop her from digging around in the trash for food. She seemed genuinely confused, thinking it was her pantry.

"Anything for me, my dears?" Rox asks, hobbling over once she sees me. She's draped in a patchy grey coat, one that can't be thick enough for this weather, with thin old shawls wrapped around her neck.

I sigh. "If I find you a really big rock, will you promise me to buy a thicker coat?"

Rox cackles and holds out a withered hand. Her fingers open and close several times expectantly. She tilts her head over her shoulder and says to no one, "She will, my dears. She will want what we have."

"What do you have?" I ask, knowing that pointing out to her that she's not talking to anyone is pointless. Someone bumps into me from behind.

"Get away," says Rox, poking a passing man with her stick, the one who must have bumped me. "Go!"

The man, who I've never seen around here and doesn't seem to know Rox, opens his mouth, looking angry, but I quickly step forward and place two gold coins in his hand. "Sorry for the trouble." His anger fades as his dirty fingers slide over the coins. He gives me a nod, shoots Rox a hesitant look, and scampers away.

I sigh and bat away her stick as she tries poking more people. "You're going to poke someone's eye out if you keep this up."

Rox looks back at me, blinking. Her milky eyes go wide, and there is that alert thing I'm talking about. The stick lowers in her hand, forgotten. "They're coming," she says, voice low and quiet.

This isn't the first time she's said this, but every time I can't help but ask. "Who is coming?"

Her gaze holds mine.

"Them," she breathes. The word drops between us and like always, despite the fact that I should know better, a wave of dread washes over me. "We can't let them in."

Her eyes search my face, going back and forth so quickly it's like she's sleeping with them open. But then she blinks and those milky eyes glaze back over. Now I know she's just sprouting nonsense like usual. "No, no, no my dears," she says, shaking her head furiously, looking at something over her shoulder. "Not now—only in sleep."

The tense moment is over and I want to slap myself. Rox freaks me out a little when she does this, but for some reason I just want to believe she isn't insane. "So what did you say you have for me? I might just happen to have a few rocks to give you in return," I say.

"Five is your friend," she says, patting me on the arm. Her tone suggests I should already know this vital piece of information. "Not one but one. Always one."

"Rox, you know I have no idea what you're talking about," I say patiently. And here I thought her riddles and nonsense was over. Sometimes she can hold a semi normal conversation for a while. Today must not be one of those days.

Suddenly she grabs my arm with more force than I expect from someone so frail. Her grip is so tight that it stills me. "See, Katara. Tell him to _see_."

I stare at her. She's never said my name before.

"Who?"

"Betray thrice, my dears. Tell him to see."

"Rox, what are you gabbling about now?" says Onri, an older man who runs the White House. He smiles kindly at the two of us as he finishes up with a customer. He's one of the few people that don't seem freaked out by Rox and her eccentric behavior. Maybe that's because she spends most of her time here, around him. "You're not scaring Katara away, are you? I rely on her for some of the best game around."

"It takes a lot to scare me away," I say lightly.

"Do you have any pretties for me, my dears?" Rox asks me, like she hasn't been talking in riddles the past five minutes. She's back in reality now, it seems, holding her hand out expectantly again.

"I only have a few this time." I fish out three fist-sized grey rocks from my satchel and hand them over to her. "I didn't have a lot of time to look around this morning."

"Big day tomorrow," says Onri. He leans in so one of the Guards that are swapping pelts for spices doesn't hear us. His breath tickles my hair. "Steal some of that fancy food while you're visiting those Fire provinces."

"I'll try," I say. "Hopefully they don't try to poison me."

Onri smiles and heads over to a couple disputing over cracked bottles. Jokingly, I turn back to Rox and say, "So what do I get for those rocks?"

She's watching Onri, her fingers twisting and knotting the overlong frayed sleeves of her coat. "A truth," she says.

I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do with a _truth_, but I decide to humor her. "And what is it?"

She looks at me, one milky eye focused on my face, the other lazily looking off to the side. "He will make it," she says, and before I can ask what she means, she turns and hobbles away.

I decide that my mind can't afford to go off the deep end by taking anything Rox says seriously—even though she always leaves me feeling uneasy, whether I want to admit it or not—so I make a few more trades before heading out, more for the province's benefit than mine. The White House is getting more crowded now as we approach midday, which means I need to get back. I want to spend the last few hours with my dad.

On the way home, I stop by Kami's bakery for some moon cakes. The shop is pleasantly a little crowded—well, more than usual—and has been since our economy has improved. Knowing I'm responsible for this gives me a daily reminder of why it was worth it to win. I ask for two small moon cakes and a loaf of bread, using the money I made from the White House and a little extra I brought along. Normally this would have taken me several weeks to save up and here I am, able to buy this much on a daily basis. Kami knows what today is, so she gives me one of the cakes for free. I promise to bring her jerky meat when I get back.

The Guards aren't friendly to me as I pass, but they don't scowl at me, either. It's a minor improvement. A couple of weeks ago Meng caught up with me outside the White House. She didn't say much, but she didn't need to.

"_I'm sorry for your loss. Both of your losses."_

I didn't realize what she meant until I got home. She was talking about Sokka, obviously, but also Zuko as well. He may not be dead, but he's pretty much dead to me, and we all know it. How I feel about him—some in the province have decided my actions were a ploy to win the Games. Others find my behavior disgraceful. I don't deny or admit to either because it doesn't matter; and if it did, it's none of their business.

My hand unconsciously touches the dagger hidden in my parka. That's what Zuko hid in the cloth when he handed it to me in the carriage. I have no idea how they got it out of the arena, or why he gave it to me, but I carry it with me everywhere. Along with some water in a pouch strapped around my waist, they make me feel safe.

I draw in a ragged breath, pulling my hood down to fight the bitter winds as I make the walk home. The tall icy buildings help, but the wind still manages to pierce my face. The coldness only makes me feel number than I already do. Princess Yue has become more like a friend to me since I came back. We always talked in school, but ever since I shared my secret with her, we became closer. If anyone deserved to know what that water did, it's definitely her, since she gave it to me. I left out a lot of the details, but I wanted her to know I put her water to good use.

After I told my dad most of what happened with Zuko and the resurrection, we haven't talked much about the prince. Probably because he knows how much it brings me pain when his name is even brought up. Dad let me tell my story and even asked some questions about our alliance—not the kiss, though, thankfully that hasn't been brought up.

_"You love him,"_ he finally said, not even a question. _"I'm sorry."_

There was nothing to say after that. He didn't even seem upset, which if I was being honest, I had been afraid of that. He was just…sad. For me, I think. _"Your pain is my pain,"_ he once said to me, when I was about ten and asked him why he was so sad after my first lashing from a Guard.

After that, I decide to lock away all personal feelings deep inside me, somewhere I don't have to look into for a long while. The world is a cold place, too cold to be bothered by things that make me ache. Months later, I almost forget the exact shade of gold to his eyes. But then I see the sun rise and I remember and wonder how I could ever forget.

My dad is waiting for me at home with a pot of stewing sea prunes. I bite my tongue as he stirs the pot and adds some extra seasoning, trying not to laugh at his bulky figure moving around the kitchen. I've cooked our meals since I was about seven or eight years old, but seeing my dad try to do something so out of his comfort zone dismisses my urge to check his recipe. Before the Games, he was never home when I finished dinner for me and Sokka. This is one change I like.

I place the moon cakes onto platters and slice up half the bread with a knife. We finish preparing dinner together silently. I can't help but feel the peace of hearing the sea prunes stew over a kindling fire. The smell itself is heavenly and familiar, bringing me to a place I like to be. After my approving test taste, my dad ladles some sea prunes into two bowls and sets them on the small wooden table.

"Did you make any good trades?" Dad asks, taking a seat. Usually this question is geared toward Sokka since he's the master negotiator, but I guess I've taken that role now.

The first sea prune I put into my mouth is hard to swallow, and not because of my dad's cooking. "Not really. Just a few things like soap, some seaweed noodles, and then I stopped at the bakery."

"I saw the moon cakes."

"Mom's favorite," I say wistfully, dipping a piece of bread into my bowl and sopping up the juice.

"Back then, we could only afford about two a year," he says with a soft chuckle. "Always had to get one for her birthday, of course. Once I had to sell my best boots so I could buy one."

I almost snort into my sea prunes. He's never told me this story before. "You sold your boots for a moon cake? I hope it was worth it."

"Seeing her smile made it worth it." He closes his eyes and I look away, feeling like I'm intruding on a private moment. There's always been a longing ache when I think of my mom, but there's emptiness, too, because I've never known a life other than my dad and Sokka. I don't even know how to miss my mom because I've never had one.

"Do…do you think she's proud of me, Dad?" I ask hesitantly. "Do you think Sokka is with her now?"

The first week I came home was terrible. I managed to hold it together when the Watchers recorded my arrival and I was greeted with the entire province outside the palace. As soon as I was home and alone with my dad I broke down and cried, and cried, and cried until there was nothing left. We didn't talk much about the Games or the things I did or didn't do. I think he wants to forget about them just as much as I do. He doesn't blame me for Sokka's death, and when I ask about things that only he could have seen, he's very vague. But there's a haunted look on his face, one that only comes from a person who has seen all the horrors in the world. He saw things I'll never see. Sometimes I don't know if that's a good or bad thing.

"I know she's proud of you, Katara," says Dad. "And I believe that she and Sokka will find each other in the spirit world, if they haven't already. They are probably smiling at us from above right now."

"They'll be jealous they don't get any moon cakes." I laugh, but it hurts a little. I wonder if I'll ever be able to tell a pain free joke about Sokka ever again.

"We better not waste them, then." He makes a move for the cakes, but I reach out and yank the dish out of his grasp.

"You haven't even finished dinner yet!" I exclaim. "Is this how you eat while I'm away? Skipping dinner and going straight for sweets?"

He crosses his arms and looks at me with barely concealed amusement. "I thought I was the parent here."

"Eat your sea prunes," I say, pointing at his bowl with my chop sticks. "They're full of protein, you know."

"Then don't tempt me with the moon cakes," he says playfully, but nonetheless, goes back to his bowl.

Pakku and Hama stop by a little after dinner. I see a lot more Hama than Pakku these days—even now, as a victor, he won't let me sit in on his lessons. He _still_ only teaches men. Unbelievable. The Capital won't allow him or any of our teachers to show us anything that can be used offensively, but the techniques are still endless and I can adapt them into something more aggressive. Every time I make a comment about him training Elites, he just snaps at me and ignores me the rest of the day.

Since he doesn't have to work or need the money, I get the impression that he does it to pass time; Hama doesn't work at the healing huts, but she stops in every once awhile, bringing me along. Even though I brought Zuko back to life, my healing isn't great. So far I've managed to heal minor cuts and scrapes, but nothing big. It's improvement, Hama always points out, even though I feel discouraged.

Once my mentors take a seat, I cut into the second moon cake to share with them. I'm glad to finally have a chance to ask them everything I've wanted to since Joo Dee sent that letter.

"So how long are we at each province?" I ask.

"Usually a couple of days, depending on what they have planned," says Pakku. "You'll make a public speech, take a tour of the province, and then attend a celebratory dinner. The Fire provinces like to show off, so there will be something extra to show the uniqueness of their province."

I take a bite of cake. "Like what?"

"Well, Province Two has the Ember Island Theater. They usually perform a play for the victor."

I remember Zuko telling me about a theater. This must be the one. "What kind of play?"

Pakku hesitates, like he's carefully deciding what to say. "The Black Games."

Horrified, I look at Hama for confirmation. Her silence is my answer. But there's been dozens of Black Games, seventy-five to be exact. How will they…? Oh. It dawns on me suddenly.

"They'll perform this year's Games, won't they?" I hedge.

"Since it's your Games, yes. You are the victor."

Just another way the Capital won't let us forget.

"Well, it can't be worse than seeing the real thing," I finally say, determined not to let the Fire Lord get the best of me. I don't dare look at my dad, knowing he saw more than even I did. Everyone in this room saw more than me, actually.

"They're not always accurate," says Hama. "Just keep that in mind."

I shrug, picking apart my cake without interest.

Dad clears his throat and asks, "How long will Katara be gone?"

"We'll be traveling by ship, so a couple of weeks. Not long," says Pakku.

"Joo Dee didn't tell me much. Where do we go first?"

"Province Five. Then Three, Two, and finally back at the Capital."

I groan and push my plate away; Dad silently slides it over to himself. Like he hasn't had enough already. "The victor's dinner," I say with a sigh. "I almost forgot."

"I think you'll be surprised," says Hama, giving me a soft smile. "Even though we're from different provinces, many of the victors are like friends."

I snort with laughter. "I doubt I'm going to make friends with victors from other provinces."

"You seem to get along fine with Bowen," says Pakku dryly.

Oh, how to describe my relationship with Bo. It could take a while. None of them know I met with Iroh and Lu Ten, who recommended Bo. I've kept the aid of the royal family pretty secret.

"The victor from Six? The one who helped you save Prince Zuko?" Dad asks, frowning a little.

The Capital didn't show Zuko's resurrection to the rest of the world. The only reason my dad knows is because I told him. To his credit, he took it well, but he couldn't completely hide his shock and fear, especially when I told him about the royal court. Not my entire conversation with the Fire Lord, but the just of it. I figure telling my team and Dad bits and pieces of the truth might save them some day.

From what I understand, only Province One knows exactly what I did since they saw it, but that doesn't mean word won't seep out eventually. Not from the people, necessarily, but the Guards. Especially since One and Two are literally right next to each other and they pace along the same wall; I don't know about Three and Five.

My dad says everyone in the province was told to gather in the square and Meng read an announcement that there had been a mistake in the Games. That Prince Zuko had not been killed by my blow, barely surviving, and once they took his body back to the palace they figured out he was still alive. A team of exceptional healers were able to revive him. Since I was already established as the victor and the Games were over, Zuko and I did not have to duel. I asked how anyone could believe that when they saw Zuko and Azula's funeral, but my dad told me they never saw a funeral.

I was stunned. I was so sure there had been Watchers at their funeral. But, I realized, that didn't mean they were doing a live feed to the other provinces. They must have decided not to broadcast the funeral after my little stunt, that way they didn't have to explain in detail exactly how Zuko's body survived the white fire. I hadn't considered that the Watcher's weren't live. I assumed they were. Sokka would have told me to never assume, so I guess that's my fault.

Oh well. The only province who really needs to know the truth is Province One, and they do. Fire Lord Ozai might have reacted differently if the entire world knew what I did. Maybe I should be thankful the feed wasn't live. At least he had to publically announce they had made a mistake. That had to hurt his pride.

"Yes," I say, turning to my dad. "He's somewhat a friend, I guess."

"Good fighter," Dad admits. "Handsome fellow. I remember his year. Quite the reputation now, I hear."

I don't even bother trying to explain Bo, especially since he's a puzzle even to me. "Yeah, he's something else."

A little before dusk, Pakku and Hama leave to meet Joo Dee by the docks. I finish packing my satchel and a small sack of clothes that I'm sure I won't end up wearing. Joo Dee had added in her letter not to pack much because June has already prepared my outfits for the trip. Unnecessary, but I'm glad I'll get to see June. I've missed her.

Princess Yue stops in to say goodbye before me and my dad head to the docks. She looks out of place, even in our upgraded home, with her white hair piled on her head, dark blue beads threaded into her locks, and her fancy parka that drags across the ground. She hugs me as soon as she steps into our house.

"I hope you'll be safe," she says into my hair. "I'm so glad we've become friends. Even if I make a terrible hunting partner."

I laugh, remembering the first time she ventured with me to do a little distracting hunting so I didn't have to go alone. I made her cover her hair since it stands out and didn't let her near my spear. She made too much noise and scared off all the game, but it was nice to have company, even if it wasn't Sokka. Another time she got her foot caught in a trap—even with Kami's help, I'm pretty sure it's going to scar. Yue just isn't cut out for the life of a hunter or angler.

"Me too, and I will be safe. Just make sure you don't go on any hunts without me," I say, releasing her. "You'll probably end up killing yourself."

"You let her go hunting with you?" Dad asks, sounding both disappointed and surprised.

"She followed me," I say with a shrug. "Besides, she's only gone a few times." Maybe an exaggeration, but my dad probably doesn't need to know that. He doesn't look fooled though, and purses his lips at me. We've already decided that I don't need to hunt any more since we don't need the extra food, especially since it's illegal and poses a huge risk. What he doesn't get is that I _need_ to hunt. I need the distractions.

"I think my hunting days are over anyway," says Yue, but she shoots me a wink when my dad turns away, shaking his head. She looks back at me, frowning. "I wish I had something to give you this time."

"More of that water would be nice."

She laughs. "Even I don't know where the spirit oasis is."

"Guess I have to rely on myself for this _dangerous_ tour."

Dad shoots me a serious look as he pulls on his heavy parka. "Don't do anything stupid, Katara. You're going into unknown provinces and victors are not always greeted pleasantly."

He has no idea how much I know that.

"I'll be smart, and safe. I promise."

Yue leaves shortly after, making me promise to come see her when I get home. My dad watches her leave fondly. I've never really had friends besides Sokka, at least none that came to my house. I think it makes him happy to know I'm not completely anti-social and closed off like I was those first few weeks I came home.

"I thought you might want this," says Dad, holding out my mother's parka. His arms drop slightly, hesitantly. "I know you won't need it once you leave the province, but I thought it might give you comfort on your trip."

"I like taking a little bit of home with me," I say, smiling at him. I slip it over my clothes and tug it tight. With my sack and satchel wrapped around my body, I'm all ready to go, but when I look at my dad, with the sadness in his eyes as he stares into the dying fire, I don't want to leave. "It's only a little while," I say quietly. "I'll be back before you know it."

He pulls me into his arms. "I have this terrible feeling if I let you go, I'll never see you again."

"It's just a tour, Dad. No more Black Games for me."

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**A/N**: As you can see, it's starting to take on a slight Catching Fire feel. I didn't want Katara to go to all the provinces, so I thought just the fire provinces would be a good idea; and it seems like something Ozai would do. :) I just want to say, because I don't feel like I can say it enough, thank you again for your support! You guys are so nice in your reviews and I just appreciate each and every one. They make me want to keep writing and always put a smile on my face. So thank you!

Review Responses:

**Kaizen Kitty: "Do you follow writing courses or study literature? Did you read a lot of fiction? Or is such great writing the product of talent that you're either born with or not?"** - Lol aw, you're sweet. I think any sort of "talent" or hobby always improves with practice. Writing has always come kind of naturally to me. I was always the one who had no problems with essays but hated tests. I've never taken writing classes, just the normal required English classes growing up. I started off reading fanfiction and then decided to take a stab at a story. I wrote for Harry Potter first, and then ATLA. Just writing and reading, both fanfiction and published novels, helped my writing, I think. My stuff now is better than when I first started...I cringe when I read some old stuff, lol.

**QuietShadowz: "You said this is where some catching fire similarity's are gonna start kicking in..."** - Yeah, it's loosely based off Catching Fire. I say loosely because it's inspired by it, but doesn't follow the story exactly the same. Hard to explain, lol. But you'll know what I mean in a few chapters. For example, there is a tour, but it's only in the fire provinces. Small but similar things like that. :)

**the alphabet soup: "Do you plan on writing in anymore OCs like Bowen who are based off of characters in the books?"** - There will be more characters introduced. Some are from ATLA, while others are OC's, yes. :)

**JessieJay13: Just wanted to say that I really do love your writing and to ask how often you update!"** - Thank you! I usually update once every week or two. :)

**T: "I never picked up Hunger Games or anything else written in 1st POV (many people misuse this pov and I don't trust this anymore), but you handle it pretty good."** - Thank you! I used to HATE first person with a passion. In published works I don't mind it quite as much, but in fanfiction I usually avoid reading 1P because it tends to get OOC. So I really appreciate it whenever anyone likes my version of first person because I find it very challenging to write myself.

**MHZutaraFanGirl: "And with two hardheaded people like the Victor and Fire Prince, things won't also flow smoothly for their future."** - For sure. And it's a good thing, I think, that they argue because I think it's good they both still stand their ground. If Zuko always caved to Katara, or she always caved to him..meh. It wouldn't be in character, and it wouldn't be very interesting for me to write.

**"It should be very interesting, and it will be nice to see Hakoda fleshed out"** - I really wish Hakoda could have had more time in this chapter, but I've got to move the plot along. He plays a bigger role in the future and becomes more fleshed out then what we've seen so far..I'll just say that. :)

**SparklingGem: "By the way, have you heard the song 'Heart of Courage'?"** - Yes! That's partly why this chapter is named so. Two Steps From Hell has some amazing stuff. :)

**lori: "your interpretation of zuko and katara in the black games is literally my otp."** - *hugs you* That just made my day. Thank you so much!

**aimee2127: "I love you. So much."** - I love you too friend!

**Narnia: "have you considered writing some chapters, or a chapter, in Zuko's POV?"** - It will all be in Katara's, because I think it's better when the reader knows everything the narrator does. I don't like when the reader knows things that the narrator doesn't, because then we get biased and extra annoyed at the narrator, lol. So Zuko's head will be a mystery to us and we'll continue seeing him through Katara's perspective. :)

**NotAgainstDarkSide: "Btw, do you plan on writing an Iron Fey fanfiction? And, will you continue writing Changing Fate and Forces of Destiny?"** - I don't plan on writing Iron Fey fanfiction, but you never know! Julie wrote some amazing characters. I can't complain about any of them. I do plan on finishing both Changing Fate adn Forces of Destiny eventually! They're just not my top priority at the moment like TBG trilogy is.

**lauriedoriew: "It really made me feel, and I think that's what, as a writer, you aim for."** - Yes! That really is what I've aimed for with this story.

**Phantom of Runes: "You have quickly become one of my favorite authors on this site!"** - Aw thank you very much! *hugs you*

**vwaterlily: "I was so afraid that Katara might lie to Zuko somehow and there would be some giant misunderstanding that would blow up later."** - Yeah, Katara spent most of the Games denying those feelings. Kind of like she does with Aang in canon: she focused on the war and pushed back her feelings. In this, she was focusing on the Games and pushing back those feelings. There's really no sense in denying them at this point and Katara has realized that. A lot of times authors use the denial as a reason for two characters not to be together yet, but there are so many other things going on in this can prevent Katara and Zuko being together, lol. I don't even need that plot device. :P

What's always interesting to me is how many stories have the characters realize their love at the end. And then the story is over. I wanted to show that a story does go on after characters realize how they feel. Another reason I'm so excited for Legend of Korra book two, since Mako and Korra have admitted they love each other. :)

**Ten Faced: "Wait, I forgot. How old are they?"** - Zuko and Katara? He's 18 and she's 16. :)

**EbunnyLove: "I hate how she got all Katniss like about relationships in this chapter because that was my least favorite part of Katniss as a character."** - My least favorite aspect too. But the difference in Katara and Katniss is that Katara was worried that Zuko could have been acting in the arena, something she never considered before. (Katniss on the other hand knew she was acting and putting on a show for Snow.) But when Zuko points out it wasn't a game to him either, she says "I know" because deep down she knows Zuko would rather die than put on an act to gain popularity. That would be dishonorable and not honest, and we all know how much honor and honesty means to him. ;)

So while it appears that Katara is being like Katniss, she's actually doing the opposite. ;) In canon, Katara is very, very stubborn and usually listens to her heart over her brain and logic. I wanted to make sure I kept those traits for the most part.

**VanCloude: "Can we get married? Can you bring all your story ideas and we'll write for our honeymoon**?" - Haha I don't know what my boyfriend would say about that!

**Aaliyah92: "I haven't read catching fire yet only the hunger games. Will this be an issue?"** - Not at all! This trilogy is inspired from both ATLA and The Hunger Games. If anything, it'd more important that you've seen ATLA. :P The elements from Catching Fire are more...adapted to the ATLA world. So it doesn't matter that you haven't read CF. This is different enough. :)


	11. Province 5

**A/N**: Fast update for you guys! Also some important things in the authors note at the bottom, so please check it out. Enjoy! :)

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"It is in the middle of misery that so much becomes clear." - _Clarissa Pinkola Estes_

**Chapter 11 - Province 5**

My room on the ship is already stocked and crowded with things I don't need or want: A wardrobe filled with tops, skirts, pants, long formal gowns—all mostly in shades of red and gold, with a few surprising blue pieces. Gemstone necklaces and earrings that have been polished to perfection. A mix of simple and elaborate headpieces, one of which is so ridiculous it will make me look like a giant bird with all its feathers. And the shoes. I think there has to be at least ten pairs in my closet—mostly strappy sandals, but there is a pair of stylish working boots that catch my attention. I keep wondering why June thinks I may need them.

I push past my mother's parka in the closet and decide on an ankle length dress. It's easy just to slip it over my head instead of worrying about tops and bottoms. We're out of the South Pole, so I don't need my parka anymore, but it's still a little chilly. The dress is very soft, dark red, with some sort of gold stitching at the waist. The sleeves cup around my shoulders, showing off the faded white marks crisscrossing up and down my arms. Sometimes women at the Capital will wear longer sleeves under these dresses, but I'm not shy about the scars. I'm proud of them.

Dinner had been waiting when we boarded the ship, but I skipped it since I wasn't that hungry, wanting to settle in my room instead. And okay, maybe I wasn't ready to get back into the swing of things just yet. Seeing my whole team together again left me with mixed feelings: on one hand, I was thrilled for us to be together. On another, it reminds me of things I'll never forget.

I don't know what time it is now, but the circular window in my room shows a dark sky scattered with clouds that hide the moon and stars. Joo Dee told me the kitchens are always available, so I think I'll pay the galley a visit. I feel really animated from my nap, almost like my blood is humming with energy, but I'm starving. Ever since I've been able to pay for more food at home—not to mention the treatment I got at the Capital and all their lush dishes—I've been craving more to eat. My stomach must have expanded since my starving days.

I grab a light robe, throw it around my shoulders, and head out. The ship rocks a little as I move through the empty corridors. Luckily sconces are lit so I'm not drowned in the darkness. Joo Dee gave me a tour of the ship when I first got on, but I don't remember half of it. I do, thankfully, remember the route to the galleys. I opt for the smaller one of the two with the less formal dining room.

And it's not empty when I get there.

Surprised, I say, "What are you doing up?"

"I get restless on the night of a full moon," says Hama. She peers at me over her narrow shoulder. "Don't you?"

I move into the small dining room that adjoins the galley and take a seat across from her. "Not really," I answer. Then I think of how awake and energized I felt after my nap. Maybe I can't see the moon, but I _feel_ it. "But I do feel a bit more…."

"Powerful," Hama supplies helpfully. I don't have anything to say to that, because I think she's right, so I say nothing and nod when she asks if I'm hungry. "My tea has grown cold anyway. I'll have the cook prepare something for us."

She disappears behind a swinging door. She returns a few minutes later, followed by a servant who brings us a tray of warm crumpets, muffins, toast with butter and berry jam, and a pot of hot tea with two little bottles of what looks like honey and cubs of sugar. It all smells so fresh, but there's no way these breads could have baked this fast. Maybe they never stop working in there.

"Thank you," I say to the servant. The young girl looks at me funny before going back into the kitchen. I turn to Hama, frowning. "What did I say?"

"Gratitude." She doesn't bother pouring the tea for us, just uses Waterbending instead. I pour a dab of honey into my cup. "Some servants of the Capital are not used to hearing it. Especially those who are not directly in the palace."

I think, suddenly, of the servant who gave me an entire tray of sea prunes at the palace. Of how scared he was just addressing me, unable to even look me in the eye. It leaves a sour taste in my mouth so I shove half a muffin in to get rid of it. Of course it's good, warm and buttery, but I can't decide if that should make me happy or not. I shouldn't like anything—not even the food—from the Capital.

Irritated, I try to part my tea into two waves. I manage to do it, but since it's not pure water, I struggle a little. Hama notices and says, "The water is quite tampered with in this brew. It's full of spices and additives. Makes it harder to filter without the aid of an Earthbender."

Stupid tea.

"I've been thinking. I don't know how many times I could have bled to death in the arena. Will you teach me bloodbending on the next full moon?" The words rush out before I can properly think them through. The idea of bloodbending repulses me, sickens me even, but when I remember all that blood soaked in Zuko's clothes from the dragon, and all the blood from Sokka's deadly wound, I wish I could have stopped the bleeding.

"You don't need a full moon to bloodbend at all," says Hama. Her eyes glint a little as she looks at me over her cup. "And you don't need me to teach you."

"I tried at home during the last full moon. I couldn't do it." I had cut my thumb with a knife on accident while slicing up bread and decided before healing it I might as well try to bloodbend. Big failure I was. "I need a Master to show me."

Hama sets down her tea and leans forward, her long grey hair falling into her eyes. "Why do you want to learn all the sudden? Plan on stopping another heart?"

"No!" I nearly shriek. "Of course not. I wouldn't…I'd never do something like that." Then, with a sense of horror, I realize I _did_ do that. I stopped three hearts, if I'd let myself remember. "I mean I'm not going to use bloodbending to hurt people. I'd never stop someone's heart…like that."

"Not even in the Games, had you possessed the skill? You would choose a painful death to the other tributes instead of a death as peaceful as going to sleep?"

_Like you did in the Games._ The words die in my throat. "I don't know. Maybe, if it wasn't painful. But if all the tributes drop dead except for me, they might be suspicious."

"And they might capture you and use you for your talent."

I stare at her, thrown by both what she's saying and by the word _talent_. "Did they try to do that to you?"

"No," she says quietly, and takes a sip from her cup. "Only because they do not know about this ability."

"You don't think any of the Waterbending Elites can do it?"

"I don't think any of them have _tried_ to do it or even considered it a possibility. The idea of bloodbending is the sort of last hope only the desperate come up with. No Elite is desperate. Their minds do not work like ours."

Desperation can make people stupid or dangerous. Sometimes both. I don't want to learn bloodbending to control others or stop hearts. I want to learn so I can heal better. Even Waterbending can't heal everything. It certainly can't stop internal or excessive bleeding.

The servant comes back to check on us. Hama asks for more tea as I down my second cup. I don't know what brew this is but it's heavenly. When the servant brings more, I thank her again, and this time she nods at me, still a little baffled, but at least its acknowledgement.

"So what are these provinces like?" I ask Hama.

"Well, I know this may surprise you, but it's been awhile since I've seen them." I laugh as I spread some jam onto a piece of toast. "I remember Two was very small, but the cliffs and beaches were lovely. Five was a chain of islands and not quite as nice. In fact, one of the islands wasn't much better off than we were. Five seemed to be the poorest of the Fire provinces; though keep in mind poor for them is still rich for us."

This is a surprise. "Why?"

"Five is the coal mining province and they have a lot of factories. Coal is the main fuel source for the Capital and their ships, you know. They work their people very hard in Five. At least that's how I remember it. Sometimes it's hard to remember the difference in Five and Six because of the factories, except Six is so big."

I almost choke on my tea. "You've been to Province 6?"

Hama smiles gently at my reaction. "Oh yes. For years the victor went on a tour to all the provinces. I want to say the last victor to tour all provinces was the fifty-sixth, maybe the fifty-seventh? A few years after Fire Lord Ozai won."

It's hard for me to remember, sometimes, that the Fire Lord has been a tribute like me. Did the tributes hate him because of who he was? Or did they fear him, wishing to join him in an alliance? Did he have a boatload of sponsors, or none at all, hoping he would die?

"I wonder why they stopped. Why it's only the Fire provinces now," I muse aloud.

"That is a very good question," says Hama thoughtfully. She takes a bite of a crumpet and swallows before adding, "Probably has something to do with anonymity."

"They don't want victors to tell their province about other provinces. Don't want them to get angry or jealous and revolt?"

"Or maybe they are using the unknown to scare them," says Hama reasonably. "Of not knowing anything about the other provinces. Not knowing how many live there, how many die every year, how good or bad off they are. There are many people in this world who fear the unknown."

"Like the dark," I say.

"Exactly."

I think about that a moment. My gaze sweeps around the dimly lit galley and focuses on the single lit sconce hanging on one of the walls. "Well," I finally say, "sometimes the dark makes it easier to see the light."

Hama, who is about to take a sip of tea, pauses with her cup halfway to her mouth. She looks at me and smiles, wrinkling up her already withered face. "You have a very bright way of thinking about things."

"Sokka used to say that sometimes I was too hopeful," I say.

"No such thing." She brings the cup to her mouth and blows the steam. "Never lose the ability to hope, Katara. Sometimes it's the only thing that will keep you fighting."

The next morning Joo Dee wakes me, loud and chipper as ever. I find myself back in the same dining room with my full team, minus my artists, who are preparing some horrible prepping treatment I'll have to face later, and Pakku. He's probably brooding in the darkest corner of the ship somewhere. Sitting at the table, I lay my hands in my lap gently. My left palm is a little sore. When I went back to my room last night, I decided to take advantage of the full moon and be stupid. I cut a small slice into my palm with Zuko's dagger. I tried bending the blood, but it only left me sweaty and frustrated. Once, I think it might have moved just a little, but I'm not sure. I felt the power of the moon—I even felt the water in the blood—but I still couldn't manage it. I guess I'll have to keep practicing. At least I was able to heal the cut last night.

Joo Dee ignores her plate of dumplings and instead unrolls a piece of parchment onto the table. She can barely contain her smile from breaking her face. "Good news. We are on schedule and should be arriving in Province 5 right on time."

The ship Sokka and I took to the Capital was their fastest vessel, getting us there in about four days. The one I'm on now is really nice, a bit larger, but slower. Joo Dee thinks it will take a week to get to Five. No rush, I guess, now that no one is going to be fighting to the death.

"Can't wait," I say dryly.

Joo Dee's smile does not falter when she looks at me. "I am quite excited for this. My first tour of the Fire provinces! All thanks to you, Katara."

"Well, at least someone will enjoy themselves," says June with a snort. She stabs her knife into an egg filled dumpling, lifts it to her mouth, and takes a bite; Joo Dee gasps in repulsion and I have to fight back a laugh.

"Your manners are atrocious!" Joo Dee scolds.

"My job doesn't require good manners so it's alright."

"You wouldn't even _have_ your job if—"

"Hey, hey," says June lazily, holding up a hand. "Too much negative for breakfast. Tell us our schedule for when we get to Five."

The word _schedule_ seems to snap Joo Dee out of her stupor. "Oh, well. We should be arriving in the late morning on the seventh day of travel. After a welcoming brunch, we will tour the main three islands. They want to show off their impressive mines—if you can even call a _mine_ impressive—and their…what did they call it…Fire Fountain?" She turns in her seat to address Hama. "Do you have a clue what that is?"

"No, that must be new."

Joo Dee squints at the scroll with narrowed eyes. "Oh, no, the Fountain is in Three," she says. "My mistake. Anyway, Five requests you enjoy dinner in the town. The next morning we will travel to Crescent Island for a tour of Roku's Temple. Later in the evening will be a feast in your honor, Katara. We set sail for Three the following morning."

"So we're only in Five for two days?" I guess they don't want us in their poorest Fire province that long. Then something more curious dawns on me. "Roku's Temple? Like, Avatar Roku?"

"He was a born Firebender, so it is expected his temple be in a Fire province," says Hama. She purses her wrinkled lips, looking slightly uneasy. "I don't recall visiting Crescent Island, or seeing a temple."

"Maybe they added it on the tour recently," I say, feeling a little uneasy all of the sudden. It's no secret that even mentioning the Avatar is ill advised. I find it hard to believe a temple would be dedicated to the Avatar Sozin killed.

"Well, this can't be good," June mutters into her tea.

Joo Dee cuts her a dry look. "Always the optimist, aren't you?"

"A realist, I think."

* * *

True to Joo Dee's schedule and prediction, we are set to arrive in Province 5 on time. It's an hour after sunrise, too early for my taste, but my artists have no sympathy. They put me through another soaking bath before waxing my legs and under my arms. It's not as painful now as it had been the first time. My hair is so long, down to my lower back, that Cho cuts off a few inches. Afterwards she braids a few pieces before piling it up in a high wolf's tail, letting the waves and curls bounce just below my shoulders.

"You'll thank me later," she says. "I hear you're hiking all over the islands."

"Is that what the boots are for, June?"

"Looks like it. I wanted you to be prepared for anything," she says from inside my closet.

_That was nice of her_, I think, but then I catch the word _you_ and suddenly a terrible thought occurs to me. "Aren't you coming with me?"

She emerges from the closet carrying a pile of red clothes draped over her arm. Her dark red lips twitch into a sly grin. "Of course not—I'm just your stylist. Besides, they couldn't pay me to hike all over those islands."

"So you're not coming either?" I ask Nina, who is finishing up my make-up.

"Nope! It's just you, your mentors, and Joo Dee. I'm so jealous!"

I groan and let my head roll back, closing my eyes. "You can go in my place if you want."

"Don't be silly. You deserve the honor of seeing Province 5! We'll see you at dinner and you can tell us all about it."

June dresses me in a sleeveless top that shows most of my stomach, and matching pants that stop at my knees. She adds a thick gold belt around my waist and a jeweled band around my upper right arm. My pants are just long enough to tuck into my boots.

Pema comes into the room with several bottles of lotion. She sets them down, finds the one she's looking for, and starts lathering me up. "This will help you not to burn. I was able to buy this with my bonus for you winning," she says proudly.

I didn't realize my artists received money for my win. This takes some of the edge off a little.

"Her face!" Pema shrieks, looking at Nina. "You already did her make up—what if she burns? She's going to be in the hot sun all day!"

"It's only on her eyes," says Nina. "She doesn't need anything else on her face. Her skin is flawless."

I look away, fighting a blush. Ever since Suki slashed me with that knife I've been a little self-conscious about the scar across my cheek. At least the ones on my body I took proudly—the one Suki gave me was humiliating and made me look weak. Not to mention it's on my face.

_Oh, stop it! You sound so selfish!_ I think about Zuko, suddenly, and feel even worse. His scar doesn't bother me, but it might still bother him. I still don't know how he got it. Thinking about him in general leaves me feeling a little empty and alone.

Pema adds some of the cool lotion on my forehead, nose and cheeks. Stepping back to look at me, June purses her dark lips. As usual her hair drapes over one eye. The one looking at me is squinting with thought. "Practical for the weather, but still feminine and pretty. Perfect."

"I feel like a child when you do this," I say, glaring at her.

She gives me a look that says she doesn't care. "Hey, this is how I make a living. Deal with it."

I laugh. "Won't I get hot in these pants?"

"No," she says smugly. "This fabric is made for the heat. It will keep you cool."

The door swings open and Joo Dee rushes inside, carrying a scroll in one hand and a huge floppy hat that I hope she doesn't intend for me to wear in the other. "We are about to make port! You must hurry, Katara. Come as soon as you can."

_Oh, here we go. _

June hands me my satchel and I swing an arm through. I don't think Joo Dee—or Pakku for the matter—will appreciate me bringing Zuko's dagger, but I tuck it into my boot anyway. Back at home, my dad made a small hole into Aang's bison whistle. Now it hangs on a thin brown piece of animal skin around my waist, like a belt. Sometimes I unclasp the clasp and wear it as a necklace, but today I just want to wear my mom's.

Out on deck, the warm breeze is thick and heavy, the sun hot and high in the sky. Already I'm feeling better about this half top that I was a bit skeptical about. The first thing I notice about Province 5 is the mountains and cliffs. Not like ours, covered in snow, but colored with browns and greens. Lots of trees and splashes of color that must be flowers. As we get closer, I note the island is actually pretty high, the ocean cutting into the middle. Large waterfalls fall from the cliffs into the ocean. I can't see the village above the cliffs anymore and vaguely wonder how we're getting up there.

Didn't Hama say this province is poor? It looks beautiful to me. Maybe this is the nicest island. Joo Dee says they have seven. Or maybe Hama didn't visit this one. So far, I haven't seen any factory smoke. All I know is that it's _big_. I can't imagine how long it's going to take us to see three of these islands. Hopefully this is the biggest one.

Our ship finally reaches the island. High on either side are the cliffs and waterfalls. Along the cliffs, pieces of rock have been pushed in, creating a space just big enough for three to five people. Two Guards are stationed in each of these alcoves, watching us through metal faces. I don't know how many there are—a hundred, possibly, all along the looming cliffs. Ropes tumble down the cliffs, reaching higher than I can see. One Guard is being lowered to an alcove, hanging onto the rope. Good. For a moment I was afraid we'd be expected to climb all the way up to the top.

We sail past a huge waterfall and there, just beyond the tumbling waves, I make out a huge dock. Five servants appear with June then, carrying trunks the size of a small child. I almost have a heart attack when I realize what those are for.

"Please don't," I practically beg. "I don't need that much."

"Full of yourself, aren't you?" she teases. Her face is glaringly white against the blackness of her clothes. Even with this heat, she won't wear lighter colors. "These are for all of us. Be a pain to forget anything."

I see what she means when we step off the ship. Waiting on the dock are several metal cages suspended by what looks like silver rope. Only it's thicker and stronger, I suppose, some kind of material the Capital produces. The cage looks sort of like the elevators back at the royal plaza in Province One, only this one has bars, like a prison cell.

The Guards gesture us to the cages. I share one with Pakku and two servants. He catches my hand when I reach out to help them load our trunks and gives me a pointed look. He gestures with his chin toward the Guard, who watches the servants and doesn't bother assisting them.

_Act like a victor_, he mouths, _not a servant._

I bite my tongue and dig my nails into my palms so I don't do anything stupid. When the servants finish, we clamber into the now crowded cage. The Guard grabs a handle that looks like it's attached to a metal wheel. He rows it once, twice, and then locks it into place. We start going up slowly. Not quite as efficient as the Earthbenders at the Capital, but it works. I close my eyes as we near the top, afraid the rope will snap and send us to our death. We have to be two or three hundred feet in the air.

Pakku and I are squashed in one corner, as far away from the Guard as we can be, who has his—or her, I suppose—back turned away from us. Pakku leans sideways and whispers, "Remember we are in Province 5 now. I don't know how they will react to what happened with their tribute."

Ty Lee. I've tried not thinking about her at all, but it's inevitable now that I'm here. I can't help but wonder which island she lived on. Either way, I'm sure her family will be present during the ceremony. Hopefully they aren't in charge of our tours. Just the idea makes me feel sick.

"You may want to say something in her honor," Pakku goes on. "They saw you let her suffer, but they also saw you sit with her until her end. Your brother killed their other tribute, too."

I nod, feeling the blood drain from my face. Why didn't he mention this earlier so I could prepare myself a little more? How typical of him. I know I should say something about how good of a fighter she was and how she sort of saved me from Suki, but those memories are clouded with her moaning and suffering. The final image of her lying broken and dying and bleeding on the ground.

When we reach the top, I can barely breathe. There is no crowd, just more Guards. I barely have time to take in my surroundings when one says to us, "I am Head Guard Nikko. You will be staying in the town inn. Its specific use is for victors and members of the Capital. Follow me."

Well, of course it has no other use. It's not like outside visitors are welcome. I wish we can just stay on the ship, but I guess that's too much of a hassle. As we move through the province, I notice the houses are styled much like the Capital, the same red pointy roofs and white stone walls. But where the houses were crowded together, they are more spread out here, dotted along the hills. All of them appear to be vacant. Not once do I catch a pair of eyes glancing through the windows.

We don't stop at the inn, but the servants and my artists do. June, the traitor, goes too. She shrugs when I glare at her, but I feel a bit better when she gives me a look that says she has no choice. Nikko takes us up the stone path through the hill to a huge glistening building. The entrance hall has pews of wooden benches and a high counter at the end. Guards stand against marble columns and pace across the shiny tile.

Nikko takes a turn down a corridor and finally stops behind a set of double doors. "Wait for the doors to open," he says, and then he turns and leaves us. It makes me feel a little better that I'm not alone, but somehow I think I'll be the only one talking.

"This is just a greeting," says Joo Dee, catching my worried expression. "We already talked about what you ought to say, remember? Do you want to read from a scroll?"

"No!" I snap, but it's nearly drowned in the sound of the Fire Nation anthem resounding behind the doors.

"Watchers will be doing a live feed," says Pakku.

"I don't care. I'm not reading off a scroll." I pat down my clothes nervously. "I'll just wing it."

"Oh, help us all," groans Pakku.

The anthem ends too soon and the doors swing open. Joo Dee gives me a not-too-gentle nudge and out I go. The doors slam shut before I can even hope someone else will come out with me. _Nope, just you, Katara._

I raise my hand to shield the glaring sun. Goodness, it's so hot. And bright. As my eyes adjust, I see swarms of faces and hands moving down below—oh, they're applauding, none too loudly though. The people of Five seem to be standing on a giant square of stone, Guards patrolling around the perimeter. I wonder if this is where tributes are reaped. Standing with me on the podium—and motioning me forward—is none other than Qin Lee, the man who conducts the interviews before the Black Games.

My feet start moving forward until I'm standing next to him. Despite being a frail older man, his grip on my arm is strong and reassuring.

"Province 5 welcomes their latest victor, Katara of Province 9!" The crowd applauds again, but more like one of politeness than fondness. Not that I blame them.

I look out and my eyes lock on the only people sitting in the crowd. They're in the front row, a line of Guards separating from the standing crowd behind. To the left is a family of three: a thin woman holding an infant, her head cast down at the bundle in her arms, and a burly man who stares at me without smiling. Their eyes look lifeless. Then there's another family, and this time my heart stops. I count six girls and a woman who must be the mother. The girls look like they're a year apart, ranging from about ten to sixteen. But what makes me stare is how similar they look, nearly the spitting image of Ty Lee. Similar in build, they're all wearing Ty Lee's customary pink. They all have those large grey eyes and light brown hair, but only one has the familiar braid. She could be Ty Lee's twin. Surprisingly, two of the girls are smiling at me; one is the girl with the braid.

Qin Lee looks at me expectantly. Seeing Ty Lee and Jiro's families has frozen my brain. I forgot about my small speech.

"Thank you for your hospitality," I say, knowing its lame, but unsure how else to start. "I know it can't be easy, welcoming me and my team here. I've never had to welcome victors in my province, so I can only imagine how difficult it is." I look at the man and woman on Jiro's side. "I didn't know Jiro or talk to him. From what I remember though, he was a tough fighter. I know nothing makes it better, but…I do know what it feels like to lose someone you love."

My voice shakes a little at the end so I pause to take a deep breath. To my surprise, the woman lifts her head and looks at me, her eyes softening almost in understanding. It's so quiet now, all these eyes trained on my face, that I almost panic and run off the podium—but then I see that little girl, the one who looks just like Ty Lee, looking at me curiously.

I turn to her family. "Ty Lee, I feel like I know a little better. Well enough that she gave me a lot of bruises." Two of the sisters giggle; the mother's lips twitch, almost into a smile. "I remember her bubbly personality, even in the seriousness of what was happening to us. She was always smiling. She fought hard until the very end. I know a stranger isn't who you would want by her side in death, but…I was honored. Her strength is something I will always admire. I'll never forget her."

When I finish, there is a long pause, everyone staring at me and remaining unnaturally still. A few faces look surprised, their eyes wide. Then, the girl with the braid rises from her seat and stands on it. Facing me, she brings her hands up, fisting her right and keeping her fingers together and pointing toward the sky with her left. She bows her head forward. Then, one by one, her sister's and mother follow, standing on their chairs to bow to me. The man who I've assumed is Jiro's father does the same; his mother stands and simply bows her head, still cradling the infant.

It takes me a few seconds to realize what they're doing, but the memories of seeing this before remind me: this is a bow of respect, one that I've only seen given to royalty. The bow of fist and flame, Hama told me.

One by one, the rest of Province 5 brings their hands together and bows to me, until not a single one is still standing upright. The Guards look back and forth to one another, unsure what they should do. Qin Lee says nothing, looking out at the crowd in awe. I feel so honored, so moved by this, that I just stand there, staring. The girl with the braid keeps her chin down but peers up at me with her eyes. She seems to want me to do something, but—Oh. Of course.

Without hesitation I bring up my hands and make a fist with my right, then a flame with my left.

I bow back to Province 5.

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**A/N:** Thanks for reading! Little bit reminiscent of Katniss in District 11; that was the inspiration here. Anywhoo, I've got some announcements! 1) We will do our next character Q/A at 800 reviews. Remember you only get ONE question period. Not one per character. 2) When I post a new chapter, I've already updated the last one with review responses, so be sure to check back! 3) I didn't think I'd be using much from Legend of Korra except for some technology, but it turns out I'll be using a bit more. Like a few characters...*sly grin*

Review responses:

**rcool98: "you are such an amazing writer, i hope you publish a book one day."** - Aw thank you! I hope I do too..it's such a dream of mine! I've got a few different ideas, but my main problem is that I need to pick one and focus on that.

**Dialogue of Discord: "I'm glad you didn't have them stumbling over or denying their feelings for a long period of time in Chapter 9: it's so frusterating when they do that in TV shows or stories. Everybody KNOWS the characters are meant to be together or KNOWS that they have feelings for each other, so why do they take forever to admit it?"** - Sometimes it's used as a plot device to keep the characters apart, and other times it's just the characters themselves. Some characters, like real people in life, struggle figuring out their own feelings. Like Mako from LoK. So the denying can really be plot related or character related.

As for this story, Katara and Zuko built most of their relationship through teamwork, working together, surviving, and needing one another. That's something that leaves an impact. It's like losing an arm. You don't realize how much you need or depend them until it's gone. Now that the Games are over, Katara can't really avoid how she feels. She knows she can't be with Zuko either way, but pretending she doesn't care for him doesn't make it true. Her goal was to save him and she did that. It's a trend in movies and fiction that characters realize how they feel at the very end. Well, I wanted to write a story that isn't over when the characters realize their feelings. There are still problems they'll face. Still obstacles that will keep them apart. We haven't really had a huge confession on Zuko's part yet, not like Katara's, but we can get an idea of how he feels based on his actions.

**"I don't specifically remember Zuko expressing a lot of worry over having to kill his sister."** - We didn't see him express a lot of worry, you're right, but that's because we were viewing him through Katara's point of view in TBG. :) From her perspective, we'd never know how tormented he was. When we're in his head, that's a different story entirely. How others perceive us is not always how we are.

**ShipperBody: "****And Bo! I miss him. Is he showing up on the victor's dinner?"** - Of course! He'd never miss an opportunity to be the center of attention.

**NotAgainstDarkSide: "I can't help but to wonder, how are you going to make it a bit more like Catching Fire?"** - I'd really say it's more inspired by Catching Fire then anything. Similar, but more fitting to the ATLA world. You'll see the similarities coming up. That's all I'll say. :)

**AnnaAza: "Poor Katara. It seems she doesn't get a chance to be home for a long time."** - Technically she was home for 3-4 months, but I didn't think more than a chapter of showing that was necessary. So to us, it didn't feel like she was home for that long. That's the hard part about writing time jumps. It's hard to wrap our heads around her not seeing June or Joo Dee for several months, but they're interacting in back to back chapters. At least there's a couple of chapters to go before she sees Zuko again, so that will feel like a longer time apart, haha.

**lauriedoriew: "Since they've announced Zuko didn't die, but technically isn't a victor either, will he be on the tour?"** - Nope. Since he's not a victor, it's just Katara and her team. :)

**Phantom of Runes: "Are many other characters going to be introduced, or is this going to be mainly focused on just Katara?"** - There will be quite a bit more introduced. They play a big role in the third part especially. :)

**ihateyoubyme: "The moon cakes and the pretties remind me of Terry Goodkind, do you, by any chance, read his works? :)"** - I have not! I was searching Avatar Wiki for some food ideas and saw moon cakes, lol.

**AvidReader4EVR: "A little disappointed at not seeing more of the initial reunion of Katara n Hakoda."** - I wanted to write that scene, but since I knew I had to do such a large time jump, I thought it might be too choppy. More Katara/Hakoda in the future though. :)

**MHZutaraFanGirl: "Yue was amusing. I had mixed feelings toward her in the series; while she could be interesting at times, she always held a certain amount of boredom to her. However, you fleshed her out into a really enjoyable character."** - Thank you! I wasn't a big fan of her in the series either and found her a bit flat as a character and boring myself. I never got into the Yue/Sokka thing either. I thought though that in this story, since she gave Katara that water, her relationship with Katara would grow a bit. :)

**"This may sound sick, but I am most eager to see how the Ember Island Players portray the Black Games."** - Haha honestly, I'm dreading writing that chapter. It's going to be so hard to pull off. I mean I wouldn't write the entire play, but the glimpses we'll see is still going to be tough for me to write.


	12. Rise and Ruin

**A/N:** Hey guys! New chapter for you all. :) There seems to be some confusion about our Q/A session! lol Remember it's when we reach **800 reviews**, so be sure to save your question for then. Enjoy the chapter!

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**Chapter 12 - Rise and Ruin**

Brunch is held in what I'm told is the Assembly Building. It's the same building I had just come through when I gave my speech. About half of Province 5 is invited, and we're all crammed into a moderate sized hall that's been decorated in reds and golds, a huge banner with the number 9 hanging in the center. Joo Dee says we're supposed to eat and mingle. Meaning I talk to whoever approaches our table.

I find out the girl with the braid is named Tia. She's a year younger than Ty Lee, the third oldest, and the fifth youngest. Not quite in the middle. Not like Kimi, Tia says, who is exactly in the middle. I don't expect the girls to be so friendly but they are. Well, the oldest isn't too friendly with me. Neither is the third youngest, Ren. But Tia tells me Ren isn't friendly to anyone. She can't talk. Lost her voice when she was young and no one knows why. Mica, the youngest of the girls—and a twin, too—tells me Ren never fully got over losing her voice. I remember, years ago when I was a child, watching a tribute from Province 12 win the Games. Her name was Sage. A short, scrawny looking nonbender that scored low in the training session. No one wanted her as an ally, but no one singled her out as a threat, either. As soon as she stepped into the arena, she was practically invisible. She moved like a shadow and struck like a deadly spidersnake. And like Ren, she couldn't talk either.

The twins decide to braid my wolf tail. Pakku looks at me in that disapproving way of his, but what else am I supposed to do? Bat their hands away and tell them no? When I came here, I sort of expected to be treated like a hostile criminal, especially since these people don't know what I did for Zuko. They still think I tried to kill him. Not to mention I _did_ kill their princess. What I said about Ty Lee, and maybe even Jiro, must have changed their perspectives. Not all of them—some still shoot me dirty looks—but it makes me wonder what those two meant to this province.

A couple of victors from Five introduce themselves to me. Pakku actually sounds rather fond of one man in particular, like maybe they're friends. Or maybe I'm confusing respect and admiration for fondness. With Pakku, it's hard to say.

The man is dark skinned, darker than mine, with a soothing deep voice and kind black eyes. High cheekbones and full lips that every once in a while twist into a small smile. There's something about him that's familiar, but I can't put my finger on it. His name is Piandao.

Another man I meet seems like the last person to ever win the Black Games. He's wearing patchy, mismatched clothes, his gray hair sticking in all sorts of directions. He has a couple of missing teeth and his hygiene looks like it's been neglected for the past few months. I notice the looks other members of Five give him. Like he's scum. But what interests me is that one minute he's talking to me as himself, then the next he puts on the hat he's been holding and is someone else. He greets me again, like we haven't just met, but he's not Dock anymore. He's Dock's brother, Xu, and even has a funny accent. After he leaves our table—Joo Dee gaping at his back, shockingly silent—Hama tells me he used to have a twin brother named Xu, but he died many years ago. Since then, Dock's personality takes on both of them, changing without warning. She says he hasn't mentored in five or six years, but she remembers his personalities.

We have to say goodbye to the girls after brunch. Nikko, the Heard Guard, will be taking us to see the mines. We were supposed to go inside, but there's been some sort of accident, so we'll only see them from the outside. I wonder if it's really an accident or not, and they don't want us in there. Tia says they actually live on the mining island, not this big fancy one where most of the victors live, appropriately named the Big Island. The mining island must be the one Hama remembers. At least June dressed me in something practical.

Since we have to travel to another island, I expect another hike down to the ship, or maybe even an air balloon, but Nikko says we'll be taking the gondolas. Once we get to the edge of the Big Island I find out what they are. They look like large, enclosed metal boxes with windows, hanging from what Hama reminds me are cables. Looks like black rope to me, but I know it's stronger and more durable.

"It's operated by a pulley system," she says, and the name rings a bell. Sokka was designing what he said was a pulley system for delivering water around Province 9. Too bad he never finished inventing it.

At the edge of the island, there are about ten gondolas loading up citizens and taking them across to another island. One gondola is further away than the rest. There's no queue to get on and it's is empty, but two Guards are stationed there. The cables show it's heading east into the fog, whereas the ones operating are heading north. When I ask Nikko where that one is supposed to go, he says nothing, instead parting the crowd so we can cut the line. I feel bad, throwing apologetic glances every direction. I want to tell Nikko I don't mind waiting, but I don't think it will make a difference.

The girls are packing into a separate gondola right next to us. I wish, suddenly, that I could do something for them as I watch their mother struggle to keep them together as she hands the Guard a handful of white slips of parchment. Despite their attempt to dress up for the occasion, all of their clothes are patchy and worn, clearly hand me downs. I can't imagine how hard it is on their mother to provide for that many children. I got the impression they don't have a father.

We reach the front of the line and Nikko waves us forward, but I've stopped walking. The twins are the last to get on, but one of the Guards holds up a hand, warding them off. "No ticket, no board. You are two short. Next!"

"Wait!" Anya rushes forward, pushing past their mother. She steps off the gondola, keeping a hand on the door frame. "Those are my sisters. They can't just wait. They're only twelve years old. Let them on you jerk!"

The Guard raises a hand and I know what's about to happen—but I'm already moving, already shoving people out of my way to get there. And I do. The Guard's hand collides with my face, knocking me backward. Gasps echo around the crowd. I put a hand against my stinging cheek. I was hoping to stop him with my arm, not my face.

"What is the meaning of this?" Nikko barks, parting through the silent crowd and reaching us in no time, Pakku hot on his heels.

"I—the girl interfered!" His voice is deep, but I catch the panic in the Guard's voice. "These two were trying to board without tickets." He points at the twins, who are quivering and staring at me in horror.

Nikko reaches out and grabs the Guard in question by the face of his helmet, yanking him forward so they're inches apart. "I don't care. You do not strike a victor, ever! For any reason! You dishonor me and Province 5. Get out before I write the Fire Lord." Nikko shoves him away by his helmet. The Guard doesn't need telling twice. He straightens, casts what I assume is a glare at the twins, and storms off.

The crowd practically jumps out of his path as he goes. Joo Dee makes a sound like a wounded bird and flutters to my side, inspecting my face. I catch a glance at Pakku. He looks furious, but I can't tell if it's directed at me or the Guard.

Nikko turns to me and my team, bowing a little stiffly in his armor. He has removed his helmet, revealing a middle aged man with cropped brown hair and beady gold eyes, a thin scar cutting into one of his eyebrows. "My apologies for the trouble, Victor. We do not treat victors as such and the Fire Lord would not be pleased if he found out about this incident. Name your price for your silence."

He doesn't care about me, Katara, being struck. He only cares that it's a victor. Like all victors are objects and not people.

I ignore his apology and turn to the twins. "The only way to travel between the islands is with a ticket?" They nod, still shaken and frightened. "Are they expensive?"

"Yes." It's Anya who answers now. She's eyeing me warily, with something akin to wonder on her face. "We can only afford to leave once or twice a month. Bit of a problem in the summer months when we have to fight over clean water."

I drop my hand from my cheek and turn to Nikko. "My price is this: I'd like each member of this family to receive one ticket each week for the rest of their lives. Free of charge."

More gasps and whispers. Pakku places a hand on my shoulder, but I don't know what it means. His grasp is tight, keeping me from saying anything else that I want to add.

After a moment, Nikko says, almost begrudgingly, "One ticket per member per week. Done."

I nod, satisfied. Tia is grinning ear to ear from her spot by one of the windows on the gondola. As I pass back to my own, I catch Anya mouth "thank you."

Only Nikko and my team are on the gondola to the mining island. It's as silent and awkward as to be expected. Hama offers to heal by cheek with Waterbending when we get there, but I only shrug in response, not wanting anyone to know how much my face still stings. At least his hand hadn't been engulfed in fire. I've taken enough lashes to know how much worse that feels.

We have to transfer gondolas two more times before we reach the mining island. Thankfully none of them are as large as the Big Island, so the walk on each isn't more than a few miles. Still, by the time we reach the mining island, my feet are starting to ache. An air balloon would have been nice. The second island we passed through held a huge compound that looked like either a school or training facility. Probably both, since the Fire provinces are all taught how to fight.

I'm told the mining island is the third largest of all of them, but it doesn't feel that way. Not with the suffocating air and overall crowdedness. Everything about this island is dry and sooty, no moisture at all. I'd never guess the ocean was brewing below us. The mountains surround a small village. The small, boxy houses are practically stacked on top of one another. It's hard to see exactly what the houses look like because most of them are concealed behind lines of hanging clothes. One woman outside a plan grey home is hanging a red tunic and stares at me with empty eyes.

There only seems to be one road and it's unpaved, clouds of dust pillowing around my feet as I walk. Children play in the road, casting curious looks at us. Their faces and hands are covered in soot, their clothes just as dirty and worn down. They look half starved, like the children I've seen in the poorer areas of Province 9.

Suddenly my cheek no longer bothers me. My heart aches instead.

"What'd you expect?" says Nikko. He must have caught the look on my face as I watched the children. "This is a mining province."

"The Big Island doesn't look like it's part of a mining province," I say.

"That's because it's for victors and exclusive members of Five. People like us."

"Sorry, but you and I are nothing alike," I say lightly.

Joo Dee elbows me and whispers, "Manners!"

"Why? No one but my family cared who I was before I became the victor. _You_ certainly didn't, either," I snap.

"That's enough." Pakku doesn't raise his voice, but with his tone, he never needs to. We're met with about a half dozen more Guards, and together they lead our team into the mines.

The workers are what I notice, not the huge mountain or the lack of vegetation. I notice their dirty hands and faces, the way their skin hangs on their necks, the hollowness of their eyes like they haven't slept in days. We are standing near the entrance to the mines, a gaping hole in the mountain lit by torches. It looks like a narrow cave, a mining cart on a track waiting to take a new batch of workers into the darkness.

"I thought you said there was an accident," I ask Nikko, getting as close as the Guards allow.

"There was. A minor coal dust explosion, early this morning," he says.

"Then why are workers still coming and going if there's been an explosion?"

"Katara," Joo Dee warns, "do not speak that way to a Head Guard." Judging by her expression, I know she wants to add: _Do not imply how he should run his province._

I almost laugh in surprise. Before the Games, I'd rarely speak out against a Guard, let alone a Head Guard from a Fire province. I'd been too afraid to. Somehow I'm not quite as afraid now.

"Their job is expendable," Nikko says simply.

I stare at him. What he means is that _they_ are expendable. If a miner dies, he can be replaced. When the Fire Lord has the entire world as his disposal, he doesn't have to worry about people dying. He can just replace them.

After the mines, we take a tour of the second island I passed through, the one with the compound and training facility—I don't know why we didn't do that second to begin with, but I'm not calling the shots here. Nikko calls this one Fire Island. I'm not sure why, but there are a lot of Fire Nation flags around. I see a large group of children behind a low gated fence, lined up and performing simultaneous moves as several instructors walk by, nodding in approval or stopping to show someone the proper technique. They're wearing red uniforms and look properly bathed, some even downright mean in their expressions. I wonder if all children in Province 5 attend this school, or if some are doomed to the mines. I just can't imagine those innocent faces I saw on the mining island looking this cruel.

Inside the facility is like a gigantic version of what the royal plaza held. Padded rooms equipped for sparring. Armories full of swords, maces, daggers, axes, and other weapons I've never seen before. A cafeteria with four long tables and benches, serving luxurious smelling foods and teas. We pass two grand libraries, wall to wall with books and dozens of desks lit with candles for studying. There's also a huge astrology room, laden with maps and strange time telling devices I've never seen before. This place is nothing like my school. This has all the bells and whistles, a place that if the world was different, I'd like to attend.

The school is virtually empty—Nikko says they were given the day off on account of my arrival—but there are still groups training, like the ones I saw outside. Those children and their instructors aren't quite as friendly or welcoming to me. They just watch us pass through the corridors, expressionless, or ignore us all together.

The tours take up the entire day. Nikko and the Guards finally take us back to the inn on the Big Island just as night falls. All I want to do is flop on my bed and go to sleep, but Joo Dee insists that I eat something. We're supposed to eat in the village since the big feast is set for tomorrow night. We get into a small argument—"No, I'm too tired. I'm not going." "Yes, you are. It is disrespectful to stay holed up in here!"—but eventually she gives up and storms down the hall to bang on Pakku's door. I slam mine before she can come back. A little later, just as I'm about to fall asleep, a servant comes to my door with a pot of tea and a plate of fresh fruit, cheeses and bread. I thank her and scarf down the food, shocked at how hungry I actually am, and then fall onto my bed, still in my clothes, and drift into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

Joo Dee wakes me later than usual the next morning, our argument forgotten. Today we're visiting Avatar Roku's temple on Crescent Island. I'm a little nervous about it, not really sure what to expect. I'm just relieved we'll be taking an air balloon.

I sift through my closet. Why do the Fire provinces insist on wearing so many pieces of clothing? I thought it was Capital fashion but it seems like it's a Fire province thing. I swear everything in here is incomplete, like it's part of an outfit. I have no idea how to match these things together. There are vests, skirts, layers that look like they go over skirts, half shirts, belts, long and short pants…it's overwhelming. Is a simple two piece outfit too much to ask?

An hour later, I settle for another half shirt and skirt over a pair of short pants. It's more red, of course, but I guess that's appropriate for being in the Fire province homeland. I suck on my fingers as we head to the air balloon, trying to get the last bit of honey from breakfast that stuck to my skin. Joo Dee catches me and swats my hands down with her usual scolding, "Manners!"

When we reach the air balloons, Nikko takes off his helmet and says, "We won't be exploring the whole island since the volcano is still active. Just the temple."

Fine by me.

Because the air balloons are small, we have to take three. I try not to think about the last time I was in one of these things—right after I stabbed Zuko. The time before, when I was being lowered into the Games blindfolded. Neither experience gave me much time to really take a look. Now I can see just how small these are, probably the smallest the Capital makes. The balloon is a light red, the Fire Nation emblem painted on. We're in what looks like a small basket with a tiny furnace, operated by one of the Guards. Hama and I are crammed near the front, and two more Guards are stationed in the basket, probably for security reasons. I'm pretty sure these are made for two or three people, so five is a bit crowded, especially since the Guards are wearing armor.

While flying over the crystal blue waters is a beautiful sight, I'm glad the ride is short. I see the smoke first, coiling up from the volcano, then the shape of the island. So that's why it's called Crescent Island. It sort of reminds me of a moon phase, except this island has a black and red tint to it, like a charred and bloody crescent moon. It's when we make our descent do I start to see it.

"The temple of the great Avatar Roku," says one of the Guards. If not for my state of shock, I might have been angered by the mocking in his tone. As it is, most of the air has locked in my chest.

I blink, feeling blood drain from my face as we near it. The smell only makes it worse, making what I'm seeing so much worse. Hama has a tight grip on my arm, like she wants me to know she's seeing it, too. When our balloon hits the ground, and the Guards secure it, I practically stumble my way forward, ignoring the calls from my team. I get as close as I dare and then stop as I hear the crunch below my boots.

There is no temple. Everything is in ashes and ruin. Piles and piles of destroyed rock and stone. Then, standing in the middle of it all, like a beacon rising from the middle of destruction, is the remains of what looks like an ancient relic. A statue. It must have been gold at some point, but now it's blackened and chipped. The statue is of a man, but his eyes and mouth has been carved out, leaving a hollow blackness. One arm is missing, and a so is a chunk from his torso. The entire thing is cracked with age, leaving a terrifying, distorted image of what must have once been an honored man.

It's the saddest thing I've ever seen.

"This temple is all that is left of Avatar Roku," says Nikko, his voice unreadable.

I have to clear my throat, suddenly feeling like I'm choking. "This isn't a temple," I say. "It's a tragedy."

One glance at Hama and Pakku and I know they've never seen this before. They are too stunned, too horrified, too unfamiliar. The Fire Lord wants me to see it. Why?

No one talks about Avatar Roku anymore. He's been gone so long—a hundred years—that I think people forget. Or maybe they don't care, since one will never be reborn again. How can someone who kept the world in balance be forgotten so easily? The Capital can burn down Roku's temple, but his memories, his beliefs and desire for a world in balance can live forever.

Nikko lets us look around. To my relief, none of the Guards follow me like I'm a child. I guess they're not worried about me attacking them here. They wait by the air balloons, probably so none of us try to steal one and leave them here.

I explore the ruins alone, leaving my team to wander around on their own. It's not like any of us can escape anyway. I try not to look at Roku as I step over the wreckage. Almost everything is broken and undistinguishable, but I find an expensive looking door handle and a piece of wall that's been intricately designed with symbols of all four elements. I almost trip over a golden roof tile, and when I gather my balance and back up, I step on something that cracks. Absentmindedly I bend down. It's a piece of stone, likely from a column or part of the building. It's jagged and black with age. I brush the ash away and there, engraved in the grey stone is a worn down symbol. It's barely noticeable, but I've seen it before. Twice.

I'm about to slide it into my satchel when a pale hand shoots out and grabs my wrist.

"Put it back," Pakku hisses at me, low and quiet.

"What is it?"

"If you are seen with something like that, you will be brought into questioning of treason."

I stare at him. "It's just a piece of stone."

"Put it back," he says again, this time more seriously.

"I've seen it before. The tribute from Twelve, Suki, had something with this symbol. The princess said something about it…that it was forbidden, I think." I decide to leave out that Iroh had given me a tile with the same symbol. "What does it mean? It just looks like a flower."

"It is forbidden," says Pakku. "And you will be in a lot of trouble if you are caught with it."

"Why is it forbidden and why is it here?" For good measure, I drop the rock, hoping my cooperation will get me some answers. When Pakku doesn't so much as utter a single word, I sigh angrily and say, "I'm your tribute. I don't know why you can't trust me with anything when I've trusted you."

He stares at me for what feels like a long time, his grey eyes steely and cold, unyielding. "It is forbidden because of what it represents…the Avatar and the Order of the White Lotus," he says finally. "It is a symbol of a white lotus flower."

I've never heard of a white lotus. Not even in my botany lessons. As if reading my mind, Pakku adds, "They used to grow in the Earth provinces, but it is now forbidden to nurture them. They are burned and so are any symbols of it."

"How come no one has ever mentioned it before?" I ask.

"Only those who know it once existed know it's forbidden. To everyone else, it simply does not exist."

I look back at the ruins. "Like the Avatar."

"Like the Avatar." To my surprise, Pakku gives my arm a squeeze. "Don't stay long and don't take anything with you. This belongs to Roku."

I nod and watch him cross the ruins and head back to the air balloons. I can't help but wonder why Suki of all people brought a token into the arena with the white lotus symbol. Better yet, how come Jee let it in? Azula said it was the symbol of the rebels. Pakku says it's the symbol of the Avatar and the Order of the White Lotus, whatever that is. Either way, I think it means the same thing—an opposition of the Capital.

I bend down and flip the rock over so the sunlight catches the symbol. The Fire Lord can burn every white lotus flower and destroy every symbol. But what he doesn't realize is that, as long as people believe, he can never fully destroy what this symbol means.

Hope.

Maybe our world is like these ruins, charred and burnt and dead. Maybe that's the reason the Fire Lord wants me to see it. To show me what happens to the beliefs of balance, of hope, of opposing the Capital's ideal world. But if you dig deep enough in the rubble, you can find a sliver of hope that shows you there is still some light left in this darkness. I've lost a lot, but I'm not ready to give up on this world yet. I had to fight in the Games to find it, but I finally found my white lotus.

And the broken remains of a temple will not stop me from believing in him.

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**A/N:** Thanks for reading! I feel the need to point out something. Pema, one of Katara's artists, isn't the same Pema from LoK. I figured you guys knew that, but I wanted to clarify. I actually decided on that name before LoK aired. :P

Will be updating with review responses soon. Be sure to check the last chapter since I updated those recently. :)


	13. The Girl From Nine

**A/N:** Sorry about the wait. At least this is a long chapter, yeah? :) I only proofread it once, so I apologize now for the errors. Enjoy!

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**Chapter 13 - The Girl From Nine**

We arrive at Province 3 just two days after the celebration dinner in Five. The image of Ty Lee's family waving to me when I left still flashes in my mind. I don't get quite the warm welcoming in Three, but when I give my speech about On Ji, of how she fell underground with me and I carried her back to the surface, the crowd softens a little.

Just like in Province 5, the tributes' families sit in the front row of the assembly. On Ji's only family is an older woman who looks to be her grandmother. Her eyes are grey and cold, her mouth pressing into a thin line as I speak, but after I finish, her chin lifts ever so slightly and looks on a little respectively. I don't have much to say about Akio, the young boy tribute who died in the opening bloodbath. All I can really relate to his family is loss, because it doesn't matter what province we are from, we all lost someone in that arena.

Province 3 consists of two parts: A large island, and the coastal land that connects into Province 2. I'm told it's separated by a wall of fire, just like Province 1 and 2 are separated. We will only be staying on the island. The Guards don't say why, but I don't really care.

The village on the island is in the center of the mountains, the houses nearly identical in size and design. The same red tiled roofs and gold peaks that I've come to associate with all Fire province homes. Factories run up into the mountains, puffing up grey smoke into the clear blue sky. As we follow the Guards to the inn, I see a huge cargo cart pulled by monstrous beasts stop in front of a gold and metal gate. The man holding the reigns hops down and speaks with the two Guards stationed at the entrance. There are another two in watch towers on either side. I think the road travels into the mountains, toward the factories.

"What are those things?" I ask Pakku, eyeing the grey skinned monsters with unease. They look too big and dangerous with those curved horns and sharp, dragon-like tail to be in a village like this.

Pakku follows my gaze and says, "Komodo rhinos. Very volatile and strong creatures."

"What do you think they're carrying?"

"Weapons. Armor. Supplies to build weapons."

"What makes you say that?" I ask.

"Province 3 is the weapons and military province." He looks down at me with a frown. "Didn't you pay attention in your geography and history lessons?"

"Master Wei isn't the most exciting to listen to," I admit. Having him first thing in the mornings didn't help either. "But I do remember what each province specializes in. I just didn't put two and two together just now."

He snorts and says nothing more. I can practically feel him rolling his eyes at me.

I think about the area in Three that connects with Province 2, the part that we aren't visiting. I wonder if that's the military compounds, where they train all their soldiers and Guards. Probably. They wouldn't want me seeing that. Does all the Fire provinces have their own military training base, or do they travel to Three? I never really think about it before. I guess it doesn't matter. Either way, they are the control in this world.

_No_, I correct myself. We are controlled by the puppet master. The Guards are only the puppets.

Later in the evening, just as the sun finally gives way to the moon, my team is taken to the center of the village for a fireworks display. We're standing on a raised dais, overlooking the main circle crowded with children and families of Province 3, Guards stationed all around us. A pretty young woman presents me with a bundle of freshly picked red flowers—roses, I'm told, since fire lilies are not in season—and then the Head Guard gives a small speech in my honor. It sounds rehearsed and insincere, but I don't care and I'm hardly listening anyway.

It's hard to concentrate on his words. My back prickles with unease and discomfort at the enormous, looming statue behind me. It's a monument, really, of pure gold, replicated as Fire Lord Ozai. I've only ever seen him in his long robes, but the monument reveals him shirtless, with corded muscles bulging from his arms, shoulders and chest, his stomach rippled. His fists are clenched at his side, his face tilted back as he breathes fire up into the sky, like a wolf howling fire at the moon. It's a menacing picture that I fear will burn in the back of my mind for days.

The fireworks are bright and festive, lighting the night sky in sparks of red, gold, blue, green, and orange. I flinch at the explosive sounds. They remind me of the cannons I so long to forget. The sounds alone make it hard for me to focus on the beauty of the display. Instead of smiling like the children in the circle, I'm tense and uncomfortable, nearly jumping out of my boots as each firework explodes in the sky. I don't know if it's because I'm closer to them now, or because of something else I don't quite want to admit. Both, probably, to some extent.

Either way, I'm grateful when Hama puts an arm around my shoulders.

* * *

The next day, June manages to talk Joo Dee into letting us explore the village since we don't have anything scheduled until later in the evening—I know it's killing her to have free time instead of a tightly woven schedule, but eventually she gives in to our wishes. Well, nearly. We compromise.

_"You won't cause any trouble?"_

_ "No, Joo Dee."_

_ "And you'll be back in plenty of time to prepare yourself for the evening?"_

_ "Yes, Joo Dee."_

_ "You must not go alone. At least three Guards will go with you."_

_ "What, no!"_

_ "It is for your safety, Katara! And it is Province Three's policy. You are from another province—you can't just go wondering around on your own. They don't trust you."_

I guess I can't blame them for that.

It amazes me how much more lax the Guards are here than they were in Five. They still patrol the streets and lodge up in watch towers; still don't hesitate to lash out with fire whips when someone breaks the law, but the people of Three seem…well, relatively happy. They don't seem bothered by the Guard at all, unlike in Nine, how we go an extra mile to avoid them if we can. I never realized how cruel some of them are back at home until now. Not Meng, but many others, the ones who look for ways to punish us. Even the three that act as our security don't bother me and June. If I didn't hear the clanking of armor behind me, I wouldn't know they were here at all. Is it because I'm a victor, or because I'm in a Fire province?

The roads are lined with shops and boutiques, bakeries and restaurants. They must be very hard workers in the factories to be rewarded with such luxuries. Their pay must be decent too, for everyone I've seen has been dressed with nice clothes. I see at least three tea shops, the smells of herbs and warmth so tempting that June and I stop inside one. Later we have some fun in a costume boutique, trying on things that are both hideous and costing a fortune. One gown alone costs more than my dad makes in a month. The old shopkeeper eventually throws us out, saying our laughing is distracting to her other customers.

"Where to now?" I ask June as we pass what looks to be a library.

"The sun is falling. Joo Dee will want us back soon to get ready for tonight's dinner. You know she'll scream our ears off if we're even remotely late."

A family of four tending to plants in the front of their house pauses as we walk by, looking up to stare at us. Their faces are expressionless. I lean in closer to June. "Everyone keeps staring at you," I say.

"They're staring at _you_, Victor."

"I don't think so. I'm not the one that looks like a shadow of death."

And indeed, she's wearing all black, like usual, with plenty of belts and buckles crisscrossing up and down her chest and pants. In a province of gold and sunshine, she stands out like a sore thumb. The way part of her hair is pulled back by what looks like some sort of boisterous fang does not help either.

June's lips twitch into a smirk and she shrugs. "Bright colors are lame. They blind me."

"Then why do you make _me_ wear red?" I ask her incredulously. With a quick glance over my shoulder, making sure the Guards aren't prying into our conversation, I lower my voice and add, "I know it's not out of respect for the Capital."

We turn a corner, taking the path back to the inn. "Just another minor stab of defiance. They have a twisted sense of honor and value the color red like they do that ridiculous bow of theirs. Only those of Fire wear red. Seeing you wear it probably infuriates the lot of them."

I flinch, hoping the Guards really aren't listening. I've never thought of it that way before. I don't think I've ever seen anyone but a Guard wear red in Nine. The idea that wearing a color will annoy the Fire Lord makes me want to wear it more often.

"Besides," June adds, "it looks good on you."

Dinner is a loud affair, with entertainers and music. Like in Five, victors from Three introduce themselves to me. Some tell me tales of their Games, others praise me for mine. One man does not introduce himself to me at all, but glowers at us from his seat. I only know he's a victor because all the victors are put at two tables near ours, but I could have guessed just by looking at him. He's possibly the largest man I've ever seen, with a long face and hard expression. He doesn't speak to anyone at his table, and when a juggler stops by him for a laugh, I fear the giant will burn him with his gaze.

Our table is filled with dishes that are both new and familiar to me. Noodle soup that's somehow both spicy and tangy. Bowls of cherries, mangos, bananas, and a prickly, odd shaped fruit I've never seen before. Komodo sausages and hot peppers with steamed rice. Plates full of breads and rolls, flat and puffy, buttery and soft. For our last course they serve us a puffed up and fluffy dessert called a soufflé. Once poked in the center, it deflates like a balloon. Inside is a sweet and spicy mixture of baked fruits. My dad would go crazy for this, even with the amount of spice. It rivals Kami's moon cakes.

Joo Dee snaps at me to finish my soufflé, like she sometimes does whenever she catches me not finishing. I don't know why the recognition hits me now but it does. I realize with detached sadness that it's not because I'm full, but because it's an instinctive habit that I wasn't even aware I was doing. Until now. Growing up, I could count on Sokka saying at least once during our meals "Are you going to finish that?" that I grew accustomed to not finishing, giving him the last bit of scraps. Except Sokka is not here to ask anymore.

With a tightening in my stomach, I force the last bit of soufflé down, wishing, as crazy as it sounds, that someone would have asked me for it instead.

* * *

We leave Province 3 the next morning. Joo Dee says we'll make port on the smaller island of Province 2, and that we should be there by the following afternoon.

"Only two more provinces!" she says over breakfast. "Except you've already been to the Capital, obviously, so that's nothing new. Then you can start preparing to be a mentor for the Quarter Duels! If you're chosen, of course. Oh, are you excited?"

The Quarter Duels. As the days grew long in Province 9 after my victory, the Quarter Duels began creeping up into conversations. Since they are different from the Black Games and only occur once every twenty-five years, it brings a mix of anxiousness and excitement amongst the people. I don't know why anyone would be excited about it—people are still going to die—but I guess that's the effect of something that happens so rarely. My dad told me four tributes were chosen from each province for the last Quarter Duels. Not that he got to see it, of course. We didn't have screens then and only the tribute's families and the wealthy were able to watch. I still don't know which is worse: crowding around the square every night to hear who has died or seeing it happen live. The slow drawl of the knife approaching or the actual puncture when it slices into your skin.

"No," I say to Joo Dee, not bothering to look up from the biscuit I'm buttering. "I'm not excited at all."

"But it is your job now. Would you rather spend your days hunting wild beasts in the snowy tundra or whatever barbaric work you do in Province Nine?"

I know she doesn't mean to offend me—she's just been raised with certain beliefs and outlooks on the world—but it still makes me want to attack her. To keep my hand from flinging the knife over the table, I curl my fingers around the silver and say through gritted teeth, "I would rather watch paint dry or listen to you prattle on about schedules and manners."

June snorts into her tea, the brown hot liquid spilling onto the table and staining the fancy white linen. "And _that_ is saying something," she says, trying not to laugh.

Joo Dee slaps her napkin on the table and stands up so quickly her chair flies backwards. "Well, if you two are finished being so vile, I will check in with the Captain!" she snaps. When she turns away, I think I catch the slightest flush to her cheeks, although it might be the catch of the candlelight.

Almost immediately I feel a little guilty. Why can't I control my temper better?

"Let her be," says Pakku, who must be able to read my expression. "She is only doing her job. It is time you embrace yours. There will be a time when a life is placed in your hands, Katara. Do not throw it away."

"I'll never turn my back on those who need me," I say to him sharply. "If a tribute chooses me as a mentor, I will do everything in my power to see that they come home. But that doesn't mean I want this. That I want someone to rely on me with their life."

"Do you think we do? That I enjoy watching child after child, year after year, die in that arena?" The bitterness in his voice doesn't surprise me. The guilt and regret does.

I never in my wildest dreams thought I'd feel remorse for this cold man. I respect him and even though he drives me crazy sometimes, I certainly trust him with my life. Pity, though, that's not something I'm accustomed to feeling for him. I don't know what year Pakku won, but he's plenty old enough that it was a long time ago. He's seen many, many daughters and sons die in that arena. Possibly feels guilty. I can't imagine a life like that, living with the guilt of so many lives lost.

I don't _want_ my life to be like that. The fear that it will be is so consuming that I finish my breakfast in silence.

We make port on a small island dotted with tall trees, the large houses built on wooden beams into the seaside cliffs. These homes are far larger than anything in Three or Five, more tall than they are wide, two or three stories at least. I can see a sandy beach down the coast, dotted with spots that must be people. The hot sun beats on my neck, but I admit I quite like the smell of salt in the air.

Joo Dee greets the Head Guard with a bow and we are led across the wooden dock over the crystal blue water. The servants struggle with our heavy trunks and I all but throw June an irritated look. "What did you pack in there, rocks?" I ask her angrily.

She waves me off. "You worry too much about others."

"Thank you. I take that as a compliment, even though I think you meant it as an insult."

When we reach the inn—which is far larger and more luxurious than the ones in Three and Five—the Head Guard turns to me and says, "We are honored for your visit, Victor Katara. Please join us this evening at the Ember Island Theater for a play written by acclaimed playwright Pu-on Tim."

I hate being asked questions that only have one inevitable answer.

"Of course," I say, tipping my head in acknowledgement. And, because Joo Dee gives me a look, I add, "It will be an honor." Oh, that one tasted bad in my mouth.

"Excellent. Please join us in the assembly for a greeting to the people of Province 2. They are most anxious to see you," says the Head Guard. Her voice is completely devoid of emotion so it's hard to say if she's being truthful or not.

Since I silently watched Mai die and did nothing to stop it, and Zuko killed Chan for my benefit, I have a feeling 'anxious' is probably the wrong word for how they feel.

* * *

I don't think it possible, but Province 2 is as snobby, if not more, than the Capital. Since this is the gemstone and jewelry province, I guess it's no surprise to see the ladies dripping in rubies, emeralds, and other brightly colored stones. This province is the least crowded of the Fire provinces, and I get the impression that many who live here are sponsors. I haven't seen one person who doesn't look like they're swimming in gold.

As I expect, the crowd is less than welcoming. Mai's family is a wealthy couple and a young boy, probably only a year. They listen to me with empty eyes, and it's hard to say how they feel about anything. Chan's family openly is disgusted with me. One of the three boys next to who I assume as his parents, probably a brother, even shouts out that Chan should have killed me. A Guard lashes him with a whip in front of the entire province, right across the back of his neck. Everyone is silent after that and I finish my speech in uncomfortable mumbles.

My suspicions about the sponsors are confirmed later in the day when I'm swarmed with those who shake my hand, some telling me who they sponsored, how some of them wish they had chosen me instead. Joo Dee grabs me by the arm and drags me over to a woman named Sen, who, Joo Dee says, was one of my top sponsors. Sen is one of the tallest women I've ever seen, with a square jaw and flat gold eyes, raven hair twisted into a high bun on her head. Her outfit is very masculine, with her broad jacket and pants tucked into high boots. Two servants, judging by their plain ivory robes, stand behind her, each struggling to hold brown heavy sacks, one under each arm. Their struggle distracts me from hearing what Sen is saying, but when she clips me under the chin with a gloved hand, my eyes snap to her face.

"Good to see my investment paid off," she says. Still gripping my chin, she tilts my head from side to side. "Get some meat on her bones, freshen up her face, fix that slouch," she shakes my face so that I straighten upon instinct, "and she ought to make a fine mentor amongst the Capital."

She releases me and I step back, glaring at her. I open my mouth, ready to let her know exactly what I think of her, when Joo Dee cuts in, "But of course, Lady Sen! Katara will make for a most excellent mentor. Will we see you tonight at the play?"

Sen's thin lips purse, the bones in her cheeks becoming more prominent. "Dreadful waste of time if you ask me. Acclaimed playwright, my rump! I lost faith in his writing when he butchered Love Amongst a Dragon this past year. But of course, I will be there. One who purchases top box seats must attend these tiresome events."

One of the servants suddenly lets out a quiet squeak as the weight becomes too much and she drops the sack on her foot. Judging by her expression, whatever is inside is heavy and painful. Sen doesn't seem to notice, not even when the servant says, "Sorry, milady."

I look around for the rest of my team desperately, but they're somehow lost in the sea of faces. Joo Dee pinches my elbow for my attention. "How lovely," she says to Sen. "I am not sure where we are seated, but—"

"Nonsense." Sen waves her off. "You'll sit with me. The Guards are more lax in the top boxes. That way we can bad mouth the play without worrying about reprimands."

Despite myself, I feel my lips twitching into a grin. More so when Joo Dee clutches at her heart in apparent appall.

"Come," says Sen, turning to her servants. "We must make the trading post before Hans arrives. He won't be spoiling my blunder today. Good day, Girl. Joo Dee."

_Girl?_

When she's out of sight, Joo Dee leans toward me and says, "That woman is a great deal of many things, but she's very nearly the richest woman in Province 2. Most of your gifts came from her donations."

"How is she so wealthy?"

"She's a miner for precious gems and pearls."

My eyes widen. "_She_ actually digs?" Somehow I'm both equally as surprised as I am unsurprised. She looks as strong as a komodo rhino, but the air of wealth around her, the way her skin is unblemished, not a hair out of place on her head, it seems unlikely she lets so much as dirt touch her fingers.

"Goodness I hope not!" says Joo Dee, looking alarmed. "She has workers for that."

Workers. _People_ are more than workers. As much as I've grown accustomed to Joo Dee, it's a reminder that she's from the Capital, and that some formalities never die.

* * *

_The Girl From Nine: the story of the 75__th__ Annual Black Games_, I read on the pamphlet. On the back is a list of actors that play the tributes. I'm played by a girl named Mia and Sokka is played by a boy named Kenji. There are no pictures, so I'm a little curious what we'll look like.

Just as Sen requests, we are seated in her box. I have to admit I'm relieved to be safely out of range from those below, tucked away in this box with privacy. Another advantage is that I'm able to see the entire place. Golden light from suspended lanterns spills into the theater. Below, wooden pews are filled with people wearing the most elaborate outfits I've ever seen. The hats are a sight of their own. Top boxes surround the room, in front of the stage and on either side. We are lucky to be in the center. A huge red velvet curtain obscures the stage from our view, hiding whatever it is we will be seeing.

"You clean up nicely for a peasant, Girl," says Sen, leaning over to me. She offers me what looks like golden eye glasses made of pure gold. They are heavy for their small size.

I decide to ignore the backwards compliment and focus on the glasses. "Thank you," I say with some effort. Indeed, June forced me into this silk gown that feels both too tight and too long. Only the color, a deep shade of gold, do I admire.

When I raise the glasses to my face, Sen slaps my hand and says, "No! Like this. These are theater glasses—binoculars, if you want the official term. You poor uncultured thing." She takes them from me and with a _click_, a golden handle pops out. Sen indicates that I hold them up to my eyes like I might a mask. Joo Dee peeks her head forward from Sen's other side, narrowing her eyes at me, like somehow I should have known how to hold the binoculars.

June's silent laughter at my other side is hard to ignore, but I manage to elbow her. I'm just glad Pakku is sitting far enough away from me that I can't see his face. No doubt it's full of boredom and irritation.

"Oh, it's starting!" Joo Dee says, shushing my artists who sit whispering and giggling one row behind. The curtain goes up, and the play begins.

_Don't take it seriously_, Pakku had said to me on our way here.

I don't realize how hard his request is until I watch myself—No, my actress—prance around on stage. The actress is clearly of Fire descent, but dirt has been rubbed on her skin to make her darker. She is bone thin, her brown hair wispy as straw, and even from here I can see the bags under her eyes. All in all, she looks pitiful and dirty. Sokka's actor is not much better and he spends most of the time swinging his sword around like a mad man. Poor Aang is played by a girl, I think, judging by the voice. Of course Zuko and Azula's actors are fine, though the painted scar on Zuko's actor's face is a bit discomforting and he the way he shouts _honor_ every five seconds is a little overly exaggerated. Chan's actor is a giant, while Ty Lee's actress only seems to have her bubbly personality. The actress flutters around stage like a butterfly, squeaking with every strike she makes.

There is a fleeting romance between Azula and Chan's actors, which begs me to wonder where the playwright came up with that. Surely, _surely_ it is made up?

"Oh Zuko, you saved me!" my actress squeals, throwing her arms around Zuko's actor. "I will never forget those _long_ hours we spent together underground!"

While I am remembering how we had just fought the Badgermoles, everyone in the box seems to be thinking of something entirely different, for they all nearly break their necks to look at me. Furious, I wave a hand at the stage flippantly. "It wasn't like that!" I all but shout. "When we weren't fighting each other, we were fighting Badgermoles!"

The Gauntlet can't be more inaccurate. Jet's actor—who is even more handsome than he was—scoops mine in his arms and carries me off stage as the phoenix chases us. I cringe and shift in my seat, hoping I'll somehow blend into the velvet.

"You tell me what is in those arrows or so help me I will gut you like a fish!" my actress shouts, nearly choking Smellerbee's actress in the process. "I am from Province 9, you know, the fishing industry!"

I lean toward June. "Did I sound that violent?"

"Well, you sounded more educated," she admits. "But you were far more desperate than violent."

I can't decide if desperate is better or worse than violent.

Aang's death is almost more terrible to watch now, because Azula's actress laughs so loudly and shrilly that it echoes around the theater. She does not, I notice, laugh during Mai's. It is nearly as accurate as what really happened, though the actress shows more remorse than Azula ever did. Chan's is altered slightly, painting Zuko in a worse light. There are even some boos amongst the crowd, but those are quickly cut off. I suspect it's the Guards' doing.

To emphasize that Toph is blind, the actress is actually blindfolded, stumbling her way around stage. The crowd coos and seems to pity her, but my blood is boiling with rage. Her death is glossed over, and the implied interactions between she and Matsu are sickening. They spent most of their time underground, so of course the playwright comes up with a conclusion so gross. He is a man, after all.

Suki is played by a very buff, very robust woman. She spends a lot of time flinging opponents around the stage. Her fight against me makes me look pathetically weak. I know I got my butt kicked, but it looks worse on stage.

Every interaction between me and Zuko—our actors—is disgustingly painted in a more romantic light. I find myself constantly groaning and burring my face in my hands. When his actor tends to my actress's wound after the burn, he gets on his knees and begs me—her—to forgive him in such a dramatic manner that the real Zuko would probably burn the entire threater in a fit of rage. Ty Lee's death is just as terrible now as it was in the arena, and as our actors stay silently in the tree, it almost appears like they're snuggling and enjoying themselves.

Disgusted, I wave my binoculars and hiss, "That…that is just wrong!"

Sen snorts, making me jump, shocking me almost as much as the scene before me. She had fallen asleep sometime before the gauntlet. Judging by her shifting in the seat and grunts, I think she's going back to sleep. I'd join her if I wasn't so rallied up.

Even though I've tried preparing myself, there is just no way to do it. Sokka's death hits me with incredible force, reminding me with painful clarity of the guilt that I doubt will ever truly fade.

"It's my fault you are dying, my brother."

"Yes, it is your fault, but I will forgive you, Katara."

June reaches out and takes my binoculars; I don't realize until now that my hand is trembling. Gently she presses them to her face as I sit back, blinking back tears. She reaches over and grabs my hand to give it a squeeze.

"It's not your fault," she says without looking at me.

Not directly, no, but it is indirectly. Loading the bow can be just as bad as shooting the arrow.

The final battle between Zuko and Azula is overdramatic and cringe worthy. When my actress "stabs" Azula with the crown, the crowd cries out in both cheers and boos. Both are equally worrisome to me. As my actress scampers to Zuko's side, she drops down to cradle his head on her lap. The candles dim to near darkness, a spot light shining down on the two actors.

_Oh, this is bad already_, I think miserably, shrinking in my seat and dropping my face into my hand. I don't want to watch, but somehow I find myself peaking through my fingers.

"I am dying," says Zuko's actor, coughing up pitiful coughs. "I…I don't have much time."

"Hang on, my prince. I will call out for aid." The actress stands up, dropping the actor's head on the ground with a loud thump that makes me cringe, and shouts, "Help! Somebody help us! Oh dear General, please help us once more!" After there is silence, she looks back at Zuko's actor, clutching her heart. "He is not answering. Perhaps he does not find you worthy to save, my prince."

"No!" I shout, but it's drowned in the gasps of the crowd. I'm standing now, so angry I can scream. Pakku and Joo Dee hiss at me to sit down but I can't.

"Perhaps not. Come here, Katara," says the actor, and mine complies, dropping to his side. "I want to tell you something."

"Yes?"

"I…"

"Yes?"

"I…I love…"

My actress perks up, leaning down to his ear. "Do tell me, my prince."

The sound of my hand slapping my forehead is a loud one. _My prince_, really? Did I sound this dramatic?

The crowd is so tense and silent that his whisper still echoes around the theater. "I love…how you helped me find my honor. I love my honor. Thank you."

"You love…your honor? Your _honor_?" Outraged, the actress pulls out what I know to be a fake dagger. "I will show you honor!" she shouts, and then she plunges the dagger into his heart. The curtain falls as my actress's maniac laughter rings throughout the theater. The crowd bursts into more cheering and outrage, rising from their seats in applause and shouts, snapping Sen awake.

Everyone else is looking at me, pity in their eyes, but I'm too stunned to do anything but stare at the curtain, which now, as memories swirl in my mind, reminds me of nothing more than a waterfall of blood I can never escape.

* * *

**A/N:** Well, that play was harder to summarize than I thought! lol Poor Zuko and his honor, baha. Anyway, hope you guys liked the chapter. I'll be updating with review responses and character Q/A since we've reached 800 reviews. If you haven't asked yet, feel free to! Remember you only get one question total. ;)

Review responses:

**brittamcw: "Do you write any stories not based on anything but your own imagination?"** - Not yet! lol Still working on writing my own novel. I will definitely let you all know when I do though.

**Elestia: "Do you ever get really stumped when you're writing or is it all planned out in an elaborate design that only you can decifer?"** - I get stumped a lot on certain scenes. Usually ones that lead up to a scene I already have planned out. There are certain aspects of this story that are planned out completely, but others I figure out as I go. For example, I knew there would be a play, but I didn't plan it out. I just started writing it and let it go in whatever direction the writing took me. :)

**akl: " did she take the white lotus with her?"** - No, she didn't. She drops it so Pakku will give her answers. :)

**AnnaAza: "was Suki a member of the White Lotus? Will Katara become one, too? Will Zuko? Is Iroh? What is this?"** - The White Lotus will remain a mystery...for now. :)

**Gasping for Breath: "I love how dramatic Katara can be sometimes, it really adds to the story. Ya know what I mean?"** - Oh yeah. That's one of the hardest parts about writing her actually, because I'm not dramatic at all. But she was pretty dramatic in the show so I wanted to make sure I portrayed that side of her. Maybe passionate is a better word for it...dramatic and passionate.

**AnimeTrance: "I thought this chapter was really amazing. Still kinda missing aang though."** - I know. :( I struggled with killing most of the main characters, but it's a nice challenge because I get to put secondary characters as the main ones now, like Joo Dee, Pakku, June, etc.

**NotAgainstDarkSide: "What do you think about General Zhao being voiced by Jason Isaacs, who protrayed Lucius Malfoy"** - I was so impressed when I found out because they sound nothing alike. Jason has such a great voice in the sense that he really captures the character. It's a very commanding voice.

**EbunnyLove: "She'll make a better rebel leader than Katniss this way."** - I definitely think Katara makes for a good leader, especially from what we saw in the series. She always stands up for what she believes in and of course, her inspirational speeches. It's something that, in this story, is slowly blossoming. She's been raised in more fear than she was in the series, but she's beginning to get braver.

**Character Q&A**

**Hama**

"Hama, do you think that Katara could possibly be stumped on bloodbending because it's such a dark art of bending and she's just not ready?" - Could be so, but I suspect her mind is not clear enough quite yet. Bloodbending requires a lot of concentrate and an open mind.

**Zuko**

"How has your life changed since you went back to life and after Katara left you?" - It's been...different and the same. I've been very busy, but not quite busy enough.

"When in the Black Games did you realize that you loved Katara or cared for her as more than a friend or ally?" - Who says I love her? I don't know when I discovered that I cared for her. Possibly when I realized she was a distraction. The "when" doesn't really matter.

"Now that you're awake, feeling better and even had to say goodbye to you know who, if the option arose would you marry Katara?" - WHAT? It's a little early to be talking about marriage...

"what were you feeling when you knew you had to say goodbye to katara?" - Dread.

"how would you feel if katara was in your room dressed as a gaurd?" - That would never happen.

"Why did you go to tell Katara good bye?" - Why wouldn't I?

"if you were the Fire Lord, would you abolish the Black Games, or allow them to continue?" - I...don't know. There is more at stake than you know.

**Ozai**

"What were your exact thoughts running through your brain when you saw your son, the Crown Prince of the Fire Nation, kiss a lowly peasant?" - Dishonorable, but not at all surprising for Zuko.

**Hakoda**

"How did you feel about your daughter resurrecting Zuko instead of Sokka" - I know that there is not a person in this world Katara would have saved before Sokka, possibly not even myself. Had it been possible, I know she would have saved him. If the water was meant to save Prince Zuko, I trust in my daughter.


	14. Stars and Blood

**A/N**: So there's kind of a Beauty and the Beast moment in this chapter. Didn't plan for it to be that way, but it just happened. :P Hope you enjoy the chapter!

* * *

**Chapter 14 - Stars and Blood**

Even though Joo Dee attempts to distract me with her chatter and questions, I barely hear her. My mind has checked out a long time ago.

I'm going to see Prince Zuko tonight.

It's all I can think about as the ostrich horses pull our carriage up the familiar bumpy road toward Province One. A little more than four months ago I was riding on this very same path with him in one of these same carriages, back to the ship that took me home. It feels like forever ago, but not at the same time. Every day I contemplated why he came to see me off, why he gave me his dagger, why he kissed me—but then I think about asking him these things, and my throat swells up.

Part of having the courage to ask a question is having the courage to hear the answer. I don't know if I want to hear the answers or not. I can't deny the portrayals of our characters in the play in Two haven't given me nightmares. The way everything happened—is that really how the Capital viewed the events? My team says the plays are always exaggerated, but I don't know if they're just telling me that to appease me. It's not working if they are.

We stayed an extra night in Two just to have a tour of the gemstone factories. I think they just wanted to show off. I had wrongly judged Sen, and found out the moment she led us into the mines. She's tough as nails, probably as strong as my dad. I was almost crushed by some falling rock when she managed to shield me from it with her body, shouldering all the weight on her own. I felt a little bad for the Guards that she snapped at after that, but I was glad she gave them an earful about the mines being hazardous for her workers. Province 3 could use someone like her.

Even so, I was glad to leave Province 2, even if that means I'm going back to Province 1 now. I haven't let myself think about it, but now I can't put it off anymore—I'm terrified. All my fears, everything I've locked away safely for the last several months, are pushed to the front of my mind. I can't avoid facing the Fire Lord, facing Zuko, or embracing my new role as a mentor.

When I got back home, I kept myself busy. It was the easiest way not to think and to try to forget. Even the tours kept me pretty distracted. At least during the day. Even now, nighttime is still the hardest, when I am at rest with no distractions. Sometimes I'd keep myself so busy that I'd fall asleep almost instantly. Other nights was a struggle as I'd lie awake remembering things I want to forget—the sound of Sokka's last breath, the feel of Zuko's lips on mine, the whimpering of Ty Lee, the flash of white lightning. And the fire. Always, always I have nightmares about fire.

Will they ever go away?

Sometimes I would get irrationally angry, even throwing and breaking things, because it isn't fair I had to lose Sokka to this game. That I personally have to suffer. Then I'd walk around and see those who never smile, those who wear their sorrows and loss on their sleeves as a reminder that I am not the only one who lost someone in that arena. And outside my window I would see children playing in the snow and smiling, the kind of innocence and happiness that I forgot still existed. A little voice would creep into my head and say _you did that_. The moment I won, the parents were able to buy their children nicer clothes and more food to fill their growing bodies.

I know it's not fair for me to wallow in my personal losses when I was able to give back to so many others. At least that's what I think Sokka would say. I know he'd want me to focus on that, but it's still hard. Letting go of things that have affected me personally have always been difficult to me, even when it benefits the greater good. When it gets hard, and it does almost every day, I try to remember those smiling faces and the moment Zuko opened his eyes after his funeral, as a reminder that good can still come from loss.

None of that eases the pit in my stomach though. I don't even care when Joo Dee scolds me about my posture. I've spent the last two days worrying about the Fire Lord, the Capital, all the victors, but now all my worries have stupidly focused on the prince.

I just don't know what I'm going to say to Zuko when I see him and the fact that it's bothering me so much only makes me angrier. It's almost like the same panic I had when I crept into his room, only this is different because of our last conversation. I have no idea what to expect now. And I haven't seen him in several months. He might be completely different now, changed, like the Games never existed.

If I keep telling myself this, maybe I'll convince myself that that's what I want.

After our rather rough and hostile introduction in the caves, it was easy as breathing being with him in the arena. I know how to _survive_ with him. What I don't know how to do is the after math. How to just be me, Katara, a girl from Province 9 who loves sea prunes and hunting and making her bed; not a girl who isn't starving or relying on him or fighting alongside of him in a game of survival.

The thought is so ridiculous to me that I actually laugh out loud, feeling stupid and pitiful.

"What is so funny?" Joo Dee asks, clearly irritated at being interrupted with whatever she had been saying.

"Nothing," I answer. The two Guards in our carriage don't even look at me, like I haven't made a sound at all. Probably for the best, anyway. _Oh, don't mind me, just wondering how to be myself around the Prince after everything we've gone through. No big deal._

_ It's not a big deal,_ I remind myself thoroughly. _You're overacting_.

But then I remember the amount of letters Joo Dee has received on my behalf. It seems everyone has an opinion of my relationship on Zuko. She's gotten letters from those from the Capital who have requested to the Fire Lord that I be allowed to live there so I can be with "my prince." Those who hate me, believing I should have saved Azula. Those who are angry, believing my feelings for Zuko were just a ploy for survival in the Games.

The latter makes me the angriest, because not only is it not true, but most people don't hold anyone accountible for what they do in the Games. It's all excused as survivor instincts.

When I think about the recap of the Games though, I guess I can see their point. When I watched myself kiss Zuko and then thrust a dagger into his heart, it left a bitter taste in my mouth. Normally, people would thrive off that kind of betrayal in the Games. But Zuko wasn't just another tribute. He was their prince, the next ruler of the entire Fire Nation. The fact that I brought him back helped my likability amongst Province One, but there are many who still hate me. The rest of the provinces don't even know I brought him back. They just think I tried to kill him and failed. As Pakku says, I'm one of the most controversial victors there's ever been.

I just wish time will help them forget. But I guess if time doesn't help me forget, it's not going to help them, either.

The carriage comes to an abrupt halt. For a moment I consider just sitting here, forcing Joo Dee to drag me out, but then my hearing seems to turn back on because I can hear people outside, _lots_ of people, the sound of hollering and clapping.

"We are here!" says Joo Dee happily. She practically yanks me out of the carriage. There, behind ropes of fire, is a huge crowd, cheering for me. Only, they aren't just cheering for me. I see banners of blue, green, orange and red, different province numbers and designs stamped onto them.

Joo Dee and I aren't alone. There is a carriage in front of us, and another, and another. And many more both in front and behind us. Actually, the whole street is crowded with the Capital's golden carriages and ostrich horses. As people start stepping out of them, the cheering from the crowd gets louder. Three carriages back, I see an orange robed man with a bald head like Aang.

Right. I am not the only one arriving today. These are victors who have traveled from all around the world for this celebration dinner. Looks like everyone is arriving. And, judging by how quickly the Guards are unloading the carriages and keeping the line moving, they are expecting quite a bit more. I wonder where Hama and Pakku are. They are in another carriage.

Joo Dee beams at me, her eyes wide with delight. "Isn't this exciting?" She throws an arm around my shoulders and gives it a squeeze. "Just you wait until tonight!"

"I can wait alright," I mumble.

"Greetings with a smile!" she reminds me, releasing my shoulders.

I wave to the crowd tentatively and force myself to smile. I guess their enthusiasm is better than threats, which I've gotten plenty of already. Now that so many from other provinces are here, I wonder if what I did for Zuko will slip out, or if the Fire Lord's threat is enough for their silence.

"Keep waving, waving—Okay, now get back inside," says Joo Dee, practically shoving me inside the carriage.

"What, why?" I bang my head on the ceiling and shoot her a glare.

"As the guest of honor, you will be staying in the palace." Her expression is carefully serious, but I can tell she's been bursting to tell me. And she's very excited about us staying in the palace. "The rest of the victors are staying at the plaza, but since everyone in Province One has shown up here to greet them, I wanted us to make an appearance. Now shoo!" She pushes my face back inside the carriage and jerks the flap shut.

I have no idea where she's off to when the carriage lurches forward, only that the next time I see her I'm going to slap her.

* * *

"Just like old times, isn't it?" says Nina, as the prep team goes to work on me, pulling and ripping and lathering my body.

"Except I'm not fighting for my life this time—ouch!" I wince as the strip is pulled away from my leg. I have not missed this treatment for hair removal.

"And we didn't have this fancy room full of lovely supplies to work with, either. Speaking of fighting," says Cho, as always, ignoring my pain and glares, "I hear the Fire Lord is going to announce the rules to the Quarter Duels at the celebration tonight."

"If I don't fall asleep," I say, fighting back a yawn. "Why is it so late anyway?"

"It's a _party_, Katara. Do you not have parties in Province 9?"

"No, we don't. And Joo Dee said it was a _celebration dinner_ amongst the victors," I say, irritated. "Most normal people eat dinner around dusk. Not two hours before midnight."

Cho snorts. "Of course she's going to call it that. _Party_ is not formal enough. What it is, just so you know, is a night the victors drink far too much cactus juice and dance and party until the sun comes up," she says.

"And we are invited!" Nina gushes. "I can't wait. I just hope June can finally decide on what we should wear."

"You can always take my outfit," I offer.

"Oh hush," scolds Nina, tugging on my hair playfully. "Although, going nude would certainly make a statement."

"That's not what I meant!"

"I know." She smiles wickedly. "But don't you want to hear about the Quarter Duels?"

"Is it really that soon?" I mumble.

"About a month," says Nina. "This is our first time seeing one. All of us," she says, gesturing toward Pema and Cho as well.

"What do you think it will be?" says Pema thoughtfully. "Males only, perhaps? Imagine how bloody that will be."

"Or what about no bending allowed? That would be even bloodier," says Cho, sounding, to my horror, thrilled at the idea.

The door opens and June walks in, layers of fabric draped across her arm. "Is she ready yet?"

"I can't decide what to do with her hair," says Nina, sounding terribly troubled. She's been playing with it for hours it seems like. "What costume did you decide on?"

"Costume?" I turn to look at June, practically knocking into Pema on accident. "What do you mean, costume? Like the opening ceremony for the Games?"

"Something kind of like that," says June evasively.

"Why?"

"It's a _costume party_, Katara. Pakku wouldn't let me tell you. He said you'd try to talk me into dressing you up in something that will hide you from everyone."

Pakku is a wise man. "Is it too late to try?" I ask.

"Afraid so."

I sigh, suddenly feeling drained and tired. "So what am I going to be? How about I go as a victor and wear my normal clothes? Or better, just put a huge black sack on me and I'll be a shadow."

June smiles something secretive and infuriating, giving away nothing. Then she turns away from me and says to Nina, "Braid it off to the side, with some smaller braids woven in. Oh, and make her sparkle."

_Sparkle?_

"As the stylist commands," says Nina. She digs her fingers into my hair and starts to weave.

Pema and Cho finally finish my make up with a soft, poufy brush across my cheeks. Cho hands me a small mirror to have a look. "Are you sure you don't want that scar covered?" she asks.

I tilt my face left and right, trying to get used to this Capital image of Katara that I've forgotten about. I don't wear make-up at home, and it's been months since my eyes have looked like this. The dark powder around them somehow makes the blue appear more icy and bright, the pink on my cheeks giving my cheekbones a sharper angle. Pressed into the inside and outside crease of each eye is a tiny crystal. I have no idea how they are sticking on there or how they make me look somehow both frosty and smoky at the same time.

I look at the thin white line on my cheek, the scar Suki gave me, still visible under the light blush. "No." I hand back the mirror. "We wear our scars. They don't wear us."

"I think I've heard that before," says Pema thoughtfully.

She has. It's the same thing I said to Zuko in the arena.

The artists finish my hair and now its June's turn. She orders them out to bring in the full length mirror from my bedchamber. The three struggle, but they manage to get it in here with the help of Pakku and Joo Dee. Then when June says their work is done, they scurry off to get ready themselves.

"They will announce us by province, and there are so many victors to get through that you must stay close," Joo Dee is saying as June starts dressing me. "I don't want you getting lost and missing your introduction."

"Yeah, what a shame that would be," I say. "Considering no one bothered to tell me this is a costume party."

"This is no joking matter, young lady! And it's not a party—it's a dinner celebration!" Joo Dee snaps. June has a needle clenched in her teeth as she works around me, but I catch her eyes roll in the reflection of the mirror. "Costume or not, _you_ are the guest of honor and _you_ will be on your best behavior."

"Well then as a guest of honor, I happily decline the offer of attending," I offer her sweetly, smiling at her in the reflection.

She stomps her foot, frustrated. "Why must you be so anti-social?"

I think about her words for a moment. "No one has ever called me that before," I say lightly. "I just don't like sucking up to people. None of them care about me."

"I can think of someone who does," says June. She winks at me in the reflection and lifts my mother's necklace over my head to tie it around my bare neck. "Arms up and close your eyes," she instructs.

I obey without complaint and she slips a somewhat heavy layer over my head. I keep them closed as she works, fiddling with my sleeves. It feels like a dress, but I can always be wrong.

"Okay, open," she says finally.

When I do, I blink in surprise. The fabric practically shimmers and sparkles, somewhere between silver and gold. The sleeves are long and tight, coming to a point on the back of my hands, a thin band, like a ring, looping around my middle finger and connecting me with the dress. The neckline swoops just below my collar bone and the back dips down deep. The waistline is tight, but the fabric flares out at my hips and falls to my toes like sheets of sparking rain. The whole thing glitters with some sort of beading in the embroidery.

June places a thin silver headpiece with small, glimmering crystal stars on top of my head. Every which way I turn in the mirror, I shine.

"What am I supposed to be?" I ask, my voice low, still surprised at what I'm seeing.

"A star," says June. "I was inspired by something your father said in his interview. He said he never understood why people aimed for the moon. That real beauty is within—"

"—the stars," I finish softly. "He always used to say that." And suddenly my throat hurts and I look at June, more touched than she could ever realize.

Joo Dee touches my arm and looks at my reflection thoughtfully. "You look beautiful, Katara. I want you to remember something about tonight, though. Reporters will try to weasel their way in and victors will certainly ask you about your relationship with the prince, from your time in the Games and now that you're out."

And just like that, the pretty gown no longer distracts me from the real worries of tonight.

"I know," I say quietly. She's already sat me down and asked me a dozen questions so I can prepare myself with an answer. The problem is that I still don't know what to say.

_Yes, everything I did was to gain Zuko's trust so I can better my chances._

Lie.

_Yes, I do care for him and meant everything I said in the arena._

Truth, but worse than the lie. Because this leads to more questions, like: _What is your relationship now? Do you keep in touch? Will you move to the Capital? Do you love him? What happens now? Why is he ignoring you and acting like you don't exist?_

This would be so much easier if I can just choke out the lie. Blaming it on the Games, on survival, is so much easier. It even makes sense. Tributes have done this plenty of times. I should be able to just go along with it. But I just can't stand for anyone—even those from the Capital—to think I'd use someone like that, in that sort of way. I also can't stand for people to believe a lie over the truth.

"What do you think?" June asks, stepping back from me and gazing into the mirror.

"I think…"

What am I going to do, really? What am I going to say to those dozens of victors and reporters that sneak in that await me? What am I going to say to Zuko? To the Fire Lord? To Lu Ten and Iroh? Are we all going to pretend everything that happened after the Games didn't? Because I think keeping something like that—something that moved and touched me so much, something I can never forget—sealed inside me is going to make me explode.

"Well?" Joo Dee says, looking a little worried at my expression.

"I think I…" And then I think of the nightmares, the way loud sounds make me jump, the fact that I still can't fall asleep without worrying someone is going to slit my throat. I'm never going to feel safe, am I? Never again?

Not while my Dad isn't around all the time. Not while Sokka is gone. Not while I don't have a set of gold eyes guarding my back when I sleep or watching the shadows when I walk.

The idea of living the rest of my life without that comfort rushes in me so quickly I nearly lose my balance. Numbly, I reach out and steady myself on June's shoulder.

"I think I need some air," I finally say. I practically jump off the little podium. I'm out of the prep room and out the chamber door in ten seconds flat. Thankfully there are no Guards this time. Joo Dee calls after me but I'm already running down the corridors.

I just have to breathe.

I run without direction, taking turns to avoid Guards and servants, going up and down staircases. Even though the sconces cast little light and warmth in the corridors, I still feel like I'm burning up. But then I see a corridor that isn't lit at all, and even though most people would avoid darkness, I welcome it.

There is no one up here. Not even the distant sound of a servant cleaning or a Guard patrolling. I feel a little at ease and ignore the guilt in the back of my mind. My team can give me some privacy and space every once a while. Maybe I shouldn't have taken off like that, but I had to get away. It was too much—all of it. There's no way I'll be late to the dinner anyway. We have over an hour before we have to line up with the other victors for our introduction.

I pass closed doors that are lightly covered in dust. Whatever part of the palace this is, no one uses it. Why would they, though? Only four people live in this huge thing! Maybe the servants do too, I don't know.

My steps slow when I see a cracked door. It isn't my curiosity, but the color of the light on the wood floor that causes me to push open the door. I practically sprint across the room to the balcony and wrench open the doors. Cool air hits me in the face and I'm greeted with a bright, waxing moon. I breathe in and out slowly until I feel myself relax. For a moment I felt so congested and choked that I almost clawed my way out of June's beautiful costume.

My fingers curl around the handles to the windows, and that's when I notice the strange shape. Taking a hand off, I see the gold handle is carved into the shape of a flower—a lily, I think.

For the first time, I wonder where I am. I turn to have a better look. I'm in a bedchamber—a huge one, one even larger than Zuko's. The lack of light makes it too hard to really absorb my surroundings, but I see the huge canopy bed, the light colored walls, the light wood furniture and floral rugs. I can tell just by the daintiness of the furniture pieces that this is a woman's room, but it's drafty and cold, giving it an empty and lifeless feel.

"You have ten seconds to explain why you are here before I light you on fire."

The angry voice makes me jump and whirl around. All I can see is a dark shadow of what must be a person in the door frame, but I don't need the light because I know that voice. My heart skips a beat.

"Zuko?"

His gasp is barely audible. "Katara? What do you think you're doing in here?" He sounds just as surprised as he does furious.

"I…I needed some air."

"So you thought you'd just wander around the palace like you owned it? In the forbidden wing?"

His anger startles me. "No one told me that."

I suppose the ominous feel of the fireless corridors and all the dust should have been a giveaway, but no one told me there was an area that was forbidden.

Zuko storms over to me and slams the windows shut. "Did you touch or take anything?"

I'm so shocked by his accusation and there's so much emotion in his voice that I just stare stupidly at him. The moon gives light to his face, making him somehow look sharper and angrier. He looks the same in his black and gold armor—_why wouldn't he, idiot?—_and his hair is partially pulled up to support his crown. His eyes though, always so warm and alive, are a flat gold, furious. At me.

"O-of course not," I finally stutter out. "I was just—"

"—leaving," he interrupts harshly. He scans the room and moves to a vanity, straightening what looks like old perfume bottles. Then he moves over to the bed and gently runs a hand over the crisp silk sheet, like he's concerned there might be a crease in it. "You can't be here. No one can." His eyes snap up to me, practically glowing.

He stares at me. For just a moment, the harsh lines of his face soften, but then his mouth tightens and he looks away, as though he's too upset to focus on any other emotion but fury. He closes his eyes and looks pained. "Just get out," he says with careful control.

I'm so stunned that after all this time, this is our first encounter, and that he's so angry with me and I don't even know why.

"Where are—"

"_I said get out!_" he screams at me, his voice rising louder than I've ever heard, somewhere between fury and longing and desperation.

I flinch back, as though I've been slapped. I turn and practically run away from him, feeling like he just ripped a hole through my chest, leaving it throbbing and raw. Just as I make it out the door, I hear the sound of something breaking and shattering.

I hate the fact that I'm about to cry. Partly because I'm lost and have no idea how to get back, and because I know it was stupid to run off in the first place, but mostly because I've been worrying so much over what to say to Zuko and _that_ was just disastrous. I don't know the last time anyone has screamed at me like that.

I have to pause to regain my breath, to get myself under control. I swipe at my eyes angrly and then take off again. Distracted, I hardly notice the fact that there are no Guards around, or the fact that I'm not alone. I don't notice the sound of an approaching figure until someone yanks my head back by my hair and rasps in my ear, "Long live the princess."

It happens so fast.

My first reaction, a gasp of surprise, is silenced by the knife that slices across my throat. The blinding white-hot pain sends me to my knees and I know immediately it's a deadly blow. But all I can think about, suddenly, is the blood staining June's beautiful costume and my mother's necklace lying brokenly on the floor.

* * *

**A/N:** Oh the cliffy. Be glad I've got the next one planned so the update shouldn't be too long. :) Anyway, hope you all liked it, even though Zuko gets a bit heated. He's prone to emotional and angry outbursts though..that's just his character. :P I forgot to mention this early, but Pema is not the same Pema as LoK. I know I mentioned using LoK characters, but this is a different Pema. The name is purely a coinsidence. :P It doesn't really matter I guess..I just wanted to clarify.

Review responses:

**MHZutaraFanGirl: "Anyway...is it wrong that I was laughing my head off during the Ember Island play?"** - Not at all! It was meant to be funny, awkward, tragic, and terrible all at once, haha. The Ember Island Players in the series is actually one of my favorites because even though it was inaccurate, it was hilarious. (And I added your character question to chapter 13, with the rest of them.)

**"Do a light bonus chapter in which Zuko sees the play recorded or something!"** - Lol maybe sometime as a bonus! If enough people are interested. :P

**TakiSama101: "I have a question...was Aang still the Avatar, just undiscovered?"** - Nope! Just an Airbender. Roku was the last Avatar and died in the Avatar State, so there is no Avatar now.

**misslexilouwho: "On the play title, was it supposed to be 75 or was it 74?"** - It's 75. That's something I changed from THG. Katniss wins in the 74th and the Quell is before the 75th. In this, the Duels are still in the same year as the 75th, they're just played AFTER instead of BEFORE. Just a minor change. :)

**SpinMeClockwise: "Do you have a Johanna-based character in this story? And will Bo have his Annie? And who do you think is Gale?"** - Not really on Johanna, but I think there are some ladies coming up who have some similar traits to her. Bo's love life remains a bundle of mysteries for now. And even though I love him, there really isn't a Gale in this story.

**Guest: "I really hate how you did all the provinces, it took SO LONG. I swear it wasn't that long in the books.."** - Lol no, Katniss and Peeta visited one province and the rest was summarized in a page or two, I think. So yes, this was a bit longer. But I will say, without spoilers, everything Katara sees is for a reason. ;) I know chapters without action are not always fun, but these visits are important for Katara's development as well as future plot lines.

Another reason Katara and Zuko are not "on paper" together for several chapters is to show distance. Katara doesn't see Zuko for about four months, right? Well, if they are together in one chapter, and then I tell you four months go by, and they're together again in the next chapter, you don't really grasp that time change. But if four or five chapters go by without interaction, it's going to feel longer and you'll have a better grasp of how Katara feels. If that makes sense...lol. So when Katara says she misses him, hopefully you are able to connect with her and realize you miss him too. (It's hard to miss a character when they appear in every chapter.)


	15. Stay With Me

**A/N**: Told you it would be a quick update! I think you guys will like this one. Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter 15 - Stay With Me**

_You're going to die._

Warm and sticky blood runs through the cracks of my fingers, dripping down the front of me. My attacker rushes past me and pauses to look back. I just barely catch a glimpse of his face, hidden in shadow. He must not care though, thinking I'm going to die, too. He vanishes silently around a corner.

_You're going to die. You're going to die alone in this corridor. _

Still on my knees, my body pitches forward, but I catch myself with my free hand. I refuse to die in a pool of my own blood. I won't crumble to the floor. The pain rings through my entire body, blurring my vision and echoing in my ears. It's almost like my body and soul is separated and I'm somewhere else, just watching my life drain away.

The thought of dying so helpless sparks something else inside me. A pull so strong I'm almost shaking.

Fury.

Fury that I outlived twenty-two other tributes in the arena just to die from an assassination attempt—that I should have been watching for—in the palace. I don't know if the Fire Lord sent him or if it's his own doing, but I don't care. All I know is that I'm not going to die today. Not here, not alone, and certainly not without putting up a fight.

_You are not dying today. Stop the bleeding._

But the blood is pouring out so strong it feels like I'm trying to stop the tides.

_Stop!_ my mind screams at me. Maybe I'm too disoriented, but the voice in my head sounds like the commanding tone of Zuko, so intense and strong that my hand clenches tighter around my throat—and then I feel it.

My bleeding just…stops.

I'm bloodbending.

It takes everything in me; my hand actually starts to shake from the pressure. It's like I'm holding a dam against a powerful ocean that is building up, waiting to push through. I try pushing the blood back inside me, but I'm too weak, too drained already, barely fighting to stay conscious. All I can do is halt the bleeding. If I can just get to my feet and find a Guard, anyone, they can take me to the healers. I just can't lose any more blood or I'm going to pass out.

_Stand up, stand up, stand up!_

Trembling, I force myself to my feet, lose my balance, and stumble sideways. I manage to stay upright with my shoulder jammed into the wall. I start to take a step when I see my mother's necklace on the ground. The knife sliced right into the fabric, splitting it into two. I can't leave it behind any more than I can leave behind my soul.

But I'm just so tired.

My hand trembles against my throat as I fight to keep the blood back. I have to get my necklace. I just have to. But my legs have locked up. The edges around my vision are darkening and blurring. I can barely keep my eyes open. Barely hanging on. It hurts _so badly_.

It's too much. I fall forward—

I hear my name echo through the corridor, and then strong arms catch me. We both go down and I'm pulled on top of someone's lap. I can hardly see a thing anymore. All I know is that I have to keep holding my throat. A warm hand comes over mine, tries to pry it away, and then stops, as though too frozen to move another inch.

I hear the sharp intake of breath and think idly, _I know that breath_.

"Katara, what happened—No, don't speak." I want to glare at him, but I'm too struck by the panic in his voice, panic I've never heard before. Not like this. I can't see his face properly he's so blurry, but I know just by his tone he knows how bad this is. "Water," he says, half to himself. "Water and bandages. We have to get you to a healer."

_How did you find me?_ I want to ask, but the words die in my bleeding throat because it seems so silly. Of course he found me. He always does.

With my free hand I reach out for my necklace, but my vision blackens completely in that moment. My fingers brush the stone, but I don't quite grasp it. Gently but quickly, Zuko cradles me in his arms, sliding an arm under my knees and the other around my shoulders. He rises from the floor and then he's running down the corridors before I can stop him, taking turns and flying up and down staircases. He doesn't even stop when the Guards question him. Even with his grace and stealth, I'm still jostled in his arms, and my tight grip on my throat only causes me more pain.

I don't know if I'm bloodbending anymore. I'm barely aware of anything but the beat of his heart pressed against my ear. I try to focus on that.

_Stay with me, Katara._

I don't know if Zuko says it, or if I'm remembering a time in the arena when he said it. Either way, the words play in my head. I almost smile at the familiarity of the situation. Every time he's carried me I've been unconscious. With his arms around me, my face pressed against his chest, the warmth and safety and comfort surrounding me, I admit to myself—since I'm probably going to die—that I like it.

_I will_, I try to say.

"Just worry about breathing." He sounds like he's choking. "We're almost there."

No! He has to know, has to know what I left behind. I try to formulate the word _necklace_, but it comes out in a gurgle.

"Don't talk!" he half shouts, desperate and demanding all at once.

I don't know if I'm conscious when we reach _there_. I might be dreaming. I think I must be. I dream of Zuko screaming "Heal her!" and someone speaking calmly to him. The prince must not be satisfied, because his voice rages and shatters something breakable. I dream of murmuring voices, the color white, of sharp objects in my arm, in my neck, of a hysterical Joo Dee. My throat burns throughout all the dreams, until finally it's nothing but an aching throb. There are more hushed voices, and I think they are angry, but it's hard to tell because their faces are all dark shadows. The last thing I remember of my dream is the faintest touch of fingers brushing against my throat.

When I finally start to stir, it feels like I've been sleeping forever, and yet I've only just fallen asleep. Such a strange, groggy feeling. The first thing I do is try to swallow—and it hurts, badly, like I'm swallowing down broken shards of ice. Cracking my eyes open, I reach up to touch my throat.

"Don't," a voice murmurs, catching my hand. I look over and have to blink several times to make sure I'm no longer dreaming. If I am, it looks and feels very real. "The sutures need to heal properly."

I blink again, but no, the picture isn't fading away. Zuko is here, sitting in a chair next to my bed. He looks tired, his hair sticking in all sorts of directions as though he's ran his hand through it many times. A single lantern is hanging above me, dimly lit, giving light to his face, which is blank and…careful. He's watching me intently, tense and anxious, but I think there is some relief in his eyes. White curtains are drawn around us, but I have an idea of where I am just by the sterile smell in the air. It still takes me a few seconds to process it all, my mind still hazy and groggy.

I open my mouth to speak, but Zuko reaches forward and caresses my cheek, sliding his thumb over my lips to silence me. Stunned, I just stare at him. His eyes drop to my throat, where I can still feel the stinging throb. The blankness in his expression jerks and he turns away before I can see the change, his face hidden in shadow. He sits back, removing his hand, his jaw working.

"You can't talk," he says in the strangest tone, sounding very far away as he stares deliberately at the curtains. "The healers say you need to rest your voice for several days. The cut was so deep they had to use sutures to staunch the bleeding. With the way you were cut and the particular blade that was used…you'll have to heal the hard way until the sutures fall out. After they do, the healers will be able to use Waterbending. They say you should have died. A miracle saved you."

I want to say something, to tell him about my bloodbending, to ask about my team, but my throat burns raw and I don't trust my voice. I'm still in that warm place where my mind is oddly calm and relaxed. I think there is something in my system to push back most of the pain and make me sleepy.

With Zuko not looking at me, I take the moment to drink him in. He hasn't bothered to change. The front of his robes is soaked with what must be my blood, dried and crusted on the fabric. I peer down and see that I'm in a plain ivory gown. It strikes me as odd but I'm not exactly sure why.

Zuko exhales a frustrated sound and drops his face into his blood stained palm, clenching a hand in his hair. He peeks at me through the cracks of his fingers. Covered in my dried blood, his hair wild, face pale and shadowed, he looks like I remember in the arena. But he also looks so tormented suddenly that I reach for him.

He leans forward and catches my hand, pressing it to the side of his face. His eyes close briefly, and when they reopen, they shine with emotion. "I am so, so sorry, Katara," he says, his voice full of anguish. "I shouldn't have yelled at you. I was just…I didn't expect to see you. In _that_ room of all places. I didn't…I'm not good at this. If I hadn't overreacted, then you wouldn't—"

His voice cracks and he bows his head forward, shaking his head into my palm.

I know he's blaming himself for what happened. It's the sort of thing Sokka would do, even though what happened isn't anyone's fault but the man who attacked me.

I'm still a little bitter and hurt from my last encounter with Zuko, but having him here right now, knowing I'd probably be dead had he not found me, the _relief_ I felt when he found me, it sort of defuses my feelings. At least for now. I'm just so relieved and happy to be alive. But the prince's torment is hard to ignore and it tugs at my heart.

Knowing I'm not supposed to talk, I shake my head. He feels my movement and glances back at me. He seems to comprehend what I'm saying and shakes his head sadly. "Don't try to convince my otherwise," he says.

I want to, but I'm so sleepy all of the sudden. My eyes start to drift shut, but then they snap open in alarm. Zuko lowers my arm to my side, keeping hold of it. His thumb gently strokes the back of my hand. "Go back to sleep," he says gently. "You're safe now."

_I know_, I want to say, but my body has sunk lower into the soft mattress, a comforting darkness closing in. But that thing that was pricking at my mind finally becomes clear. My eyes flash open and I reach for my throat. I run my finger across my collarbone, just below the cut, looking at Zuko anxiously. It takes him a minute or two to figure out what I'm asking, and by then I'm already almost asleep again.

"I've got it," he says. He takes my hand and gives it a squeeze. The lantern dims. "Stop worrying and go to sleep."

_Okay_, I think tiredly, blinking my eyes closed. Almost instantly, I drift into a dreamless sleep, my fingers clasped around his hand.

* * *

I wake up slowly, completely disoriented. I blink and see Zuko's face in the dim lighting, a wave of déjà vu washing over me. I can't get a sense of how long I've been asleep. Maybe it was five minutes. Maybe five hours.

The prince is sitting back in his chair, flipping through a stack of flyers, absorbed in whatever he's looking at. He changed into a maroon and gold tunic, no more blood staining his clothes. When I stir in my bed, he looks up. The crease in his forehead softens. "Hey," he says. "How are you feeling—Wait, don't answer that. Just…show me."

I try to laugh, but the gesture hurts. He frowns at me, not missing my reaction. "Do you want me to call a healer for more pain medicine?"

No! I hate feeling so disoriented and off. I'm definitely no good if someone tries to attack me now. I shake my head at him gently, trying to keep my neck as still as possible.

I think he wants to argue, but thinks better of it. "Here, I brought you something." He sets the flyers on the ground and reaches over to my bedside table, handing me a small sketchpad and brush. A tiny bottle of ink sits next to vials of medicine and a bloody cloth on the table.

A little confused, I look at him imploringly.

"Because you're not supposed to talk," he says. Amusement plays at his lips. "I know how difficult that will be for you."

I don't know whether to slap him or smile at the kind gesture. Both sound too physically demanding for how I feel right now, so I simply dip the brush into the ink and start to write.

_Where is my team?_ I tilt the pad so he can see it.

"The healers made them leave. I'm supposed wake Lady Su when you're fully awake." It's only now that I realize how quiet he's been talking. I almost panic that he's going to wake the healer, but he makes no move to do so. Not yet, at least. "When I leave, I'll stop by to let your team know you're awake."

The idea of him leaving bothers me more than it should. Shaking away _that_ irritating thought, I write, _Why did they let you stay?_

His lips twist, almost into a smile. "They can't kick me out in my own home."

Oh yeah. What a stupid question. I nearly forgot we're in the palace and not the royal plaza. My hand hesitates over the pad, and then I write quickly, showing it to him without looking at his face.

_Why are you here?_

To my surprise, he takes the pad and brush from me and writes slowly, taking his time, before handing it back.

_Because you're sleeping. It's my watch._

I can't help but smile and for a moment, we're back in the arena, taking turns as the other sleeps. He doesn't say it, but he must know how much safer I feel with him here. Surely he knows that, right?

_Sometimes it's hard for me to sleep without someone watching, _I admit, and hand him the pad. I think he's doing it to humor me, or maybe it's because he prefers to write instead of speaking. Reminds me of my dad. Either way, it makes me feel a little better.

Zuko hands me back the pad. _I know. The quiet bothers me_, it says. _I always wake up startled, especially since you're not there. It takes me a little while to remember the Games are over._

I look at him then. He offers me a hesitant smile that looks a little sad. I wish I can tell him how much I missed him.

_We made a good team, huh?_ I write. _Not bad for a prince and a peasant?_

He laughs softly, shaking his head. "Not bad at all."

I dip the brush into the ink, suddenly feeling a little lighter.

_What time is it?_

"I'd guess an hour or two before sunrise," Zuko answers.

Wow, that late? Then that means—oh! Now I know why my ivory dress seemed so strange. Alarmed, I write so quickly I mess up and have to flip the page to re-write my questions.

_The victor's celebration! What happened? Did I miss it?_

Zuko shakes his head. "No. My father cancelled it because of tonight's events. It's postponed for several days." He hesitates a moment. "After your healer inspection, the Dai Li want to question you about the attack if you are up for it tomorrow."

_What day is the dinner?_

He gives me a knowing look. "You'll miss it. You're still recovering." He says this like I should know better. With my dry look he sighs, resigned, and adds, "Three days from now."

I can't believe it, but now I want to go. I sit up a little higher in my bed, ignoring the pain, feeling more awake. Everyone will think I'm weak if I don't go. That I'm either trying to avoid the public or that I'm physically a weakling, undeserving of my victor title. Even though it was a serious blow and I should have died, they didn't see it so they don't know. Why would they believe anything we say?

Why do you care? I ask myself. I don't know, exactly, but I do. And for all I know, my attacker didn't want me there. Well, he had better try again. This time I'll be ready for him.

_I'm still going_, I write.

Zuko stares at me icily. "Not if Lady Su doesn't release you," he says.

_I'll be fine_.

"You almost died," he hisses, the soft gold light catching the anger in his eyes. "You _should_ have died by all logical accounts. You're in no shape to be going anywhere."

Frustrated, I jab the brush into the ink. My hand scribbles furiously against the pad. _I have to go! I won't let them think I'm weak. _

Zuko is quiet a moment. "No one thinks you're weak, Katara," he says, voice hushed. "Not if they watched the same Games that I remember."

My heart swells, but I won't let his flattery distract me. _I'm going whether you like it or not_. _Did they catch the attacker?_

Zuko runs a hand through his hair, frustrated. "Why anyone thought you'd listen to me is beyond me," he mutters to himself. He glances at me, his expression flat and blank. "No. We didn't exactly know what we were looking for, either."

Oh, right. That was a dumb question.

_It's a man. Taller than me, maybe in his thirties. I got a glimpse of his face._

Zuko's eyes widen with relief. "I was hoping you'd say that." He bends and retrieves the flyers from the ground, stacking them together. Then he hands them to me, coming to stand beside my bed, looming over me. "Look through these and see if anyone looks familiar."

I glance up at him in question.

"They're…wanted by the Capital." I can tell he doesn't want to give too much information away. Wanted by the Capital? I had no idea anyone could ever get away long enough to be wanted.

I start flipping through the pages. Most are men, but there are a few women, painted in color by a very talented artist. _There are so many_, I think idly. Most have gold eyes and pale skin of the Fire provinces, but there are a few with green and grey eyes. So some are wanted from Earth provinces, too? Even so, none of them catch my attention except one.

Zuko inhales sharply. "Is this who you saw?"

The picture is not a face, but a mask. A white mask with a red circle painted on the forehead. Where the eyes should be are two bottomless black pits.

I dip my brush and then write, _No. Who is this?_

"No one you need to worry about." I don't miss the relief in his tone, which only fuels my curiosity.

_If you don't tell me, then I won't tell you what my attacker said to me._

Zuko makes a growling sound and scowls at me. I hold his steely gaze, and eventually his eyes fall back to my throat. That does it. I can see the regret flicker across his features and this time I use it to my advantage, not bothering to sympathize with him.

"You'd probably hear about him anyway," he mutters. "It's Amun Ra. At least that's what everyone calls him."

_Why is he wearing a mask?_

The prince hesitates. He's probably giving me more information than he's supposed to. But really, what difference does it make? There's nothing I can do with this information.

"Because all prisoners at the Boiling Rock wear them," he finally says. "He's the only one who has ever escaped and survived."

The Boiling Rock…I know I've heard of it before. I just can't remember where. So it's a prison? And everyone wears these masks?

The horror must show on my face because Zuko adds hastily, "It's not in my control. Those prisoners are murderers, insane, the most dangerous in the world. Masking them takes away their individuality and keeps them…why am I even telling you this?" He breaks off, running a hand through his hair. "What did the attacker say to you?"

I'm caught between the desire to hear more and cover my ears. There is so much about the world, about the Capital, that I don't know. Prisons that make their prisoners wear masks? Those who have escaped their provinces and lived?

I can tell Zuko isn't going to say anything else on the matter, so I decide to push away my curiosity for this Boiling Rock and masked prisoners until later. Except one thing is a little frightening: there is a dangerous man out there, an escaped prisoner, and the Capital hasn't told anyone. He can be anywhere. Unless they think he's dead, just keeping the flyer to be safe, though I have no idea why he'd still be wearing that mask if he escaped.

I shake my head. Amun Ra must not be that dangerous—maybe he escaped years ago, maybe he's been wrongly accused. Either way, I've never heard of him before, but if he's an enemy of the Capital, I have no problem with that. The enemy of my enemy is my friend, I remember hearing before.

Clearly at a loss of patience, Zuko reaches down and snatches Amun Ra's picture away from me. "What did your attacker say to you?" he asks again fiercely.

I almost don't want to tell him, but I have to. _He said "long live the princess."_

The prince stills, and then he collapses in his chair, looking desperate and broken all over again. His head falls into his hands. "I'm sorry," he says, his voice muffled.

Something occurs to me all of the sudden as I watch him. I finish writing and nudge him with the pad so he'll look. _Have you slept at all? _it says.

"A little."

_Liar_, I write. _You look like death_.

He scowls at me. "Real funny, coming from you right now. Which reminds me I need to wake Lady Su. You're the one who needs to rest—I shouldn't have kept you awake so long."

He starts to rise, but I reach out and clasp his sleeve, pulling him back down. I hide the pain of impulsive movement. His eyes flicker to mine in question.

_Thank you_, I mouth to him. And then, so he knows, I scribble quickly on the pad, _For everything. _

"You should be angry with me, not thanking me," he says quietly.

He's talking about earlier again, when he shouted at me. I let go of him and dip the brush into the ink. I raise my hand and the brush hovers over the pad a moment. Something occurs to me now. _That room is meaningful to you_, I write and glance at him.

"Yes," he says carefully. And suddenly I know, feel so stupid for not realizing it before, but he confirms it anyway. "It was my mother's room."

I know next to nothing about his mother, but the pain and regret that flashes across his face whenever she is mentioned lets me know something happened to her. Something that still haunts him.

Words don't seem right. Not with him looking like this, all bloody and broken and full of suppressed anguish. I don't know if it's everything I've felt for the past five months or the medicine in my blood or his kind gestures or all my encounters tonight—maybe a combination of all of it—but I want to kiss him, to take away all our pain.

But I can't.

And I can't look at him. Not when he's looking at me like he knows exactly what I'm thinking. I turn my face away just as a tear falls. My throat suddenly aches in a different way, the feeling from holding back tears, holding back everything.

_Living without you is so much harder than I expected it to be_, I want to tell him, but then the real pain comes when I realize I'm not just talking about him—I'm talking about Sokka, too. I have to swallow back tears, my throat aching terribly.

"I'm sorry." He says it like he's apologizing for everything—everything we've been, and everything we can never be. He leans forward and touches his forehead to mine.

"Me too," I whisper, my voice scratchy and raw, pained.

Zuko stills, exhaling slowly; warm breath tickles my mouth. "Please don't waste your breath on me."

The words are familiar, but he isn't the one saying them. I'm standing before Fire Lord Ozai as he's saying I wasted the water on Zuko. With our foreheads still pressed together, I pull the pad on my lap and write, _I've never wasted anything on you._

I feel him reach up, his hand hesitating on the base of my throat. His thumb gently brushes just below the sutures, soft and fleeting. His touch is so comforting that all my energy just seems to drain away, and I'm so tired again.

My hand drifts back to the pad, and I waver, remembering our encounter in the carriage and the one in his mother's room. It's a risk but I take it anyway. My hand swipes across the pad slowly.

_Will you stay?_

I don't say how long, because time seems irrelevant. I want him to stay as long as he can.

With his mouth so close to mine, I feel his breath halt. I know he's remembering everything he's said, too. We both know he shouldn't, that he should get Lady Su and leave. It will only cause us more problems and raise more questions.

"Yes," he says at last. "I'll stay."

* * *

**A/N:** Well, the dinner was supposed to be in this chapter, but it didn't seem to work out that way, lol. Lots of stuff going on in this chapter. Hope you liked it! Reminder that the next character Q/A will be if we reach 1,100 reviews (OMG!). Thank you guys so much for your support and for reading. I'm having so much fun writing this. :)

Review responses:

**SparksxFly: "It's good to see that Zuko isn't uncharacteristically mushy or refined now that he is back to civilization."** - Yeah, Zuko isn't a mushy guy. I think there's a difference in doing something meaningful/caring/sweet and pure fluff. He shows his feelings more through actions than words, too.

**Placid: "Zuko is very sensitive when it comes to his mother..."** - He is. Especially in this, because her story is something he's never shared with anyone. Only his family knows, and they don't really talk about it.

**EbunnyLove: "That was the mother of all cliffhangers and you know it"** - Haha I thought Katara stabbing Zuko in TBG was the mother of all cliffhangers! I think everyone was in too much shock to grasp that though. I got a lot of people saying they thought Katara stabbed herself. :P Or maybe chapter 14 was such a cliffy because no one saw it coming. :P

**rasheeda101: "I love you and this story!"** - Aw thank you! Much love to you too. :)

**ManiacMily: "Wierd coincidence, you updated your 12th chapter on my 12th birthday and your 13th chapter on my friend's 13th birthday."** - Baha that is weird!


	16. The Quarter Duels

**A/N:** Apologizing now for the slight cliffy a the end. Enjoy! :D

* * *

**Chapter 16 - The Quarter Duels**

You would think I am dead with all the fuss the next two days bring. Apparently word spread like wildfire because I receive mountains of gifts and flowers and cards. Not just from Province 1, but other Fire provinces as well. Most of the stuff is from people I don't know, but Sen sends me a beautiful gold bracelet studded with rubies. Iroh actually visits in person and brews me a special blend of tea. Bowen visits too, and to my surprise, he's angry at Pakku of all people. I have no idea why, only that I'm missing some vital piece of information here as they argued out of earshot. Ty Lee's family is responsible for an artfully arranged flower display that keeps Hama busy as she tends to them. I haven't been able to tell her about my bloodbending, but I think she knows. She had that knowing look on her face when Lady Su told my team I should have bled to death. June is the only one who hasn't treated me like I almost died. I can see it in her face that she was worried, but I'm relieved with her jokes and normality.

Joo Dee and I nearly get into a fight about tomorrow's celebration. Now she doesn't want me to go. How the tables have turned! It's even more frustrating that I can't verbally argue my side. I still have to write everything out. A few times I slip and my voice rasps out. It hurts so much it physically shows on my face and only fuels her argument more, that I'm not ready.

Zuko keeps his word and has been by my side every night. During the days, he pops in and out, checking on me. He's had to listen to my team bicker with me off and on—well, the best I can bicker, anyway. At first, my team is hesitant of his presence, clearly shocked by it, remembering they're in the presence of royalty as they speak with me. But at this point, hardly anyone pays him attention. He just stands there stoically, arms crossed, leaning against the front of my bed, listening. For the first time ever, no one treats him like a prince and he doesn't act like one, either. Joo Dee doesn't even bother with her manners as she snaps at me.

"You didn't even want to go!" she says, exasperated. "This sudden change of heart is for your pride and nothing else!"

I know she's right, but it's hard to believe she's the one saying this and not Pakku. I expect this from him, but he's been oddly quiet. Whatever heated argument he and Bowen took outside has changed his mood. I want to ask because I'm so curious, but Joo Dee is my top priority right now.

_I don't expect you to understand_, I write patiently, _but I have to go. If I was in the arena, I wouldn't be expected to sit around like this._

"But you are not in the arena, Katara," she says, desperate for me to see reason. "None of us here want to see you hurt and you _are_ hurt."

I dip my brush and write quickly. Then I tilt the pad to Lady Su. _You said I passed your inspection, right? Tell her I can go._

The healer looks uncomfortable and folds her hands nervously in front of her. "Katara has responded well to our treatment. She somehow did not lose as much blood as she should have for a wound of that caliber. A miracle, really. The sutures are holding up well with little irritation. Still, when I had her tilt her head and move around, it causes her pain. I would not advise anything physically demanding or speaking for several days, but"—I hold my breath, waiting for the ball to drop—"I think if she rests for the rest of the day and takes her remedy, she can sit through a dinner if she pleases."

"And how is she supposed to eat?" Joo Dee asks, smacking her hands on her hips. "She can hardly swallow."

"As you know, we have been pumping vitamins and nutrition through fluids into her bloodstream," says Lady Su. I've tried not thinking about this when the needle goes into my arm, this technology revolting and foreign to me. Though I have to admit it would benefit those of Province 9 who are suffering from malnutrition. "I would suggest soup, since she handled the General's tea this morning."

It still hurt a little, but I won't admit that.

"Well?" Joo Dee rounds on Pakku and Hama. "What do you two have to say? You are her mentors." Before they can even think of a response, she whirls back to me. "What would your father say?"

I think about it only for a moment before I write, _He would worry, but he would support my choice to go._

Joo Dee is quiet a moment. "As your escort, it is my duty to ensure that you are properly taken care of and safely returned home," she says. "You are not thinking about how many victors will want to talk to you, especially now. It is less formal and more difficult to monitor." Out of pure desperation, I assume, she turns to the prince. "What do you think, Prince Zuko? You have attended this celebration in the past."

He has? Well, I suppose as royalty he is always invited, victor or not.

"I think you all have seen about as much as she listens to me," he answers, tipping his chin at me with narrowed eyes. "She'll want to go no matter what I say. Unless you lock her up, she'll find a way to get in there."

I pale at the thought of being restrained or locked up, but Hama chuckles. "I do not think that will be necessary," she says.

"Let her go," says Pakku, speaking for the first time in what feels like ages. "If she insists on putting herself through torture, so be it. She can arrive just before dinner is served and then leave, skipping the social nonsense. Now let's leave her be and let her rest. She has a big night tonight."

I know Joo Dee wants to argue, but she finally gives in, massing her temples. She follows my team out, leaving only Zuko behind. It has felt strange seeing him alongside my team, like clashing two worlds together. Sometimes I forget he was a tribute from the Capital, someone who was my enemy.

"They just want what's best for you, you know." Zuko plunks down into his usual chair. "I can tell none of them feel comfortable letting you go. They know you're in more pain than you're letting on."

I give him a half smile, then dip my brush into the ink and write, _It's not so bad when I don't move. _

"Remember that tonight then," he says. "And remember not to talk, if you can manage keeping your opinions to yourself."

I glare at him, but he just tips his head back and closes his eyes, a smile playing at his lips. Lady Su comes in soon after to give me some nutrients, so I hand her my arm and close my eyes too.

Later in the evening, June purses her dark red lips as she walks around me, circling me like prey. Finally she says, "Well, you're no longer a star, but I have to say I did pretty well for such short notice."

If I could speak I'd tell her I agree. She must have known I'd want to go tonight because she's spent the last three days designing me a new costume. I'm in a long crimson gown that flows from my hips and drags on the ground in a long train behind me. My sleeves are long and tight, coming to a point and looping around my middle fingers like my star gown. The entire thing from my bust line down is covered in shiny red feathers flecked with gold, giving it an almost iridescent sheen. At my thighs, the feathers start to gradually fade into shades of gold, all the way to the bottom. When I move against the candlelight, it looks like glimmering fire.

I wanted my hair down, but Nina insisted I show off the gown's deep cut in the back. She's piled my hair on top of my head with glittering pins, leaving a few loose curls down. June and Cho place an intricate mask over my face. When I look in the mirror at the finished product, it's easy to see exactly what I am.

A phoenix.

The mask covers my nose and eyes, covered in matching red feathers and sequins. The top has more feathers, and where my nose is, there is a small golden beak. I feel a little silly with a beak, but it works with the costume.

June has outdone herself with this one. It's dramatic and outrageous and part of me wants to kill her because the color and design grabs attention. It doesn't matter who is wearing this. People will look.

"I wanted to light the bottom on fire, but I thought you might oppose that," says June with amusement.

I reach for Pema, who has been holding my pad and ink, and write, _Yeah, I don't think fire and feathers will mix too well._

June laughs and turns to the others. "She's ready. Now go get dressed. We have to leave in an hour." They don't need telling twice, and scamper from the room, Pema handing her the ink bottle. "You can sit down in that," she says to me. "The feathers are smooth enough to bend comfortably without wrinkling the gown. They're like nothing I've ever felt before."

I know what she means. They are soft but firm. Strong. They shine in the light. I have no idea how she could afford to get her hands on phoenix feathers. Actually, I probably don't want to know. I feel a little guilty wearing them, but she assured me that their feathers fall out when new ones grow in, and no one would need to actually pluck them. Nor would they, since it's illegal and phoenix's can be deadly if you get too close.

"I'll give you some privacy," says June, setting the ink down. "Take advantage of not being pestered now while you can." She winks at me and then leaves the room.

I stare at myself in the floor length mirror, a wave of déjà vu washing over me. Three days ago I was here, dressed in a completely different costume, feeling nervous and overwhelmed about the victor's celebration. I still feel nervous, but this costume somehow makes me feel a little braver. Maybe it's because of what a phoenix represents, I don't know.

The only thing bothering me, I realize now that I'm looking, is my neck. It's bare, revealing the scarlet sutures across my throat. My mother's necklace is not here, and it makes me feel even more exposed. Zuko assured me his seamstress is fixing it, but I still haven't got it back yet.

I'm going to have a scar on my throat, I'm sure of it. I think of the one on my cheek, the ones crisscrossing my arms, the few on my legs and back. Sooner or later I'm going to run out of room.

A knock at the door makes me turn. It's a Guard, one of two who has been stationed to our rooms. "You have a visitor, Victor Katara."

A visitor? My team must be getting ready if the Guard has had to show a visitor inside. I decide to take my mask off for now and set it carefully on the vanity. Still clutching my pad to my chest and holding the brush, I follow him out of the prep room and across my bed chamber, careful not to let the bottom of my gown snag on anything. The Guard stops at the door and opens it.

I blink in surprise. Not just because it's Zuko, but because of how he looks.

He's dressed for dinner in an outfit I've never seen him wear before. Rather than his usual armor, he's in a uniform, a dark red jacket trimmed in red with ivory pants. His hands are covered in dark brown gloves, his boots shiny. Pieces of his hair have been pulled up to hold his crown, lose bits falling jaggedly around his jawline. I don't think I've ever seen him look more handsome and…formal.

In the time it takes me to look him over, he must have done the same to me, because his eyes widen slightly. His face has remained carefully impassive, making it hard to tell if he thinks I look pretty or ridiculous.

Suddenly feeling incredibly insecure, I pat the dress and forget that I'm not supposed to talk and say, "I know." The words feel sharp in my throat. "It's the color and all the feathers—"

"No." He almost sounds choked. "It's you—just you."

My face flushes and I glance away, fighting a smile. When my eyes meet his again I give him a _Really?_ kind of look.

"Yes," he says, answering my silent question. "I mean you've always been…but now that I know you, it's just…never mind." He makes a frustrated sound and moves his hand, like he wants to run it through his hair, but thinks better of it. His hand drops to his side, clenching.

_You struggle with giving compliments about as much as you do with receiving them_, I want to say, but I decide to bite it back. Sometimes I find him incredibly hard to read, and other times it's as easy as breathing. This is one of those times when I know what he's trying to say, but I won't force him to say it.

So I just smile knowingly and then wave my hand at his outfit questioningly. It takes him a second to figure out what I'm saying, and then he gives a snort.

"I'm going as a prince, in case you couldn't tell."

I stare at him, and then have to fight back laughter. I giggle because it doesn't hurt as much. He scowls at me, but I simply scribble across the pad and then tilt it so he can see.

_You already are a prince. That isn't a costume!_

"No one said you couldn't go as yourself," he says, clearly irritated. "This is my royal military uniform. It's as prince-like as it gets."

I have to agree. He really does look like a storybook prince in this outfit. Still giggling, I write, _What are you doing here?_

For the first, his confidence wavers and he looks a little uncomfortable. "I thought…I'm sorry your necklace was torn. I know how much it means to you, and it isn't finished yet. The fabric is delicate and old. My seamstress is trying to find the exact fabric that was used so it looks the same, but…" He reaches into his jacket and pulls out a thin velvet box. Turning it toward me, he lifts open the lid to reveal a double gold chain necklace with a giant ruby tear drop. "I thought you could wear this for tonight."

I gasp and reach forward, my fingers timidly touching the ruby. It's smooth and cool, the feel of freshly polished gem. At closer inspection, one chain is shorter than the other, almost like a choker, holding a smaller ruby. The chain is so thin I doubt it will bother my sutures. The longer chain dips down lower with the enormous ruby. Now that I look longer, I realize that instead of tear drops, they remind me of fiery rain.

It's the most beautiful piece of jewelry I've ever seen. I can't even imagine how much it cost.

"Do…do you want to wear it?"

I have considered declining—because really, it's too stunning for someone as ordinary as me—but I know how much nerve it takes Zuko just to offer me this kind gesture. The insecurity and hesitancy in his voice changes my mind. He sounds so afraid I might say no that I can't.

He looks relieved when I nod in answer. I motion him inside and into the prep room so I can stand directly in front of the floor length mirror. Zuko lifts the necklace and places it gently on my neck from behind. I reach up and adjust the larger ruby, pleased to find that the entire thing practically disguises my sutures. The prince's hand lingers on the back of my neck after he clasps the necklace and when he glances up, our gazes lock in the reflection.

The image completely draws me in and suddenly my mind completely blanks, until I visualize a corridor filled with floor length portraits of previous Fire Lord's. The one I saw with Bowen. In another world, the image I'm looking at now could hang on that wall.

Zuko's hand suddenly drops and he takes a step back, clearing his throat. "I should go."

I turn around, my heart in my throat. I want to thank him—will he ever stop doing things for me?—but writing it doesn't feel like enough. Not for him saving me, for the pad and ink, for staying with me at night, for the necklace.

Hesitantly, I push forward onto my tip toes and kiss his cheek, my lips lingering a little too long. I pull back to smile at him.

"You're welcome," he says quietly, his voice sincere. Then he takes my hand and kisses the inside of my wrist, right where his father left a scar. Even with the thin fabric to separate his lips from my skin, the feeling is so tender it still sends a jolt through me. I'm relieved when he leaves, needing my head to clear.

_What are you doing?_ I practically scream at myself. Fighting how I feel about him would be so much easier if I never had to see him. Fate seems to have other plans, it seems, and she never promised to make things easy.

* * *

The foyer outside the ballroom is crowded with victors. Unlike the opening ceremonies and interviews where we all waited anxiously in near silence, the victors are talking in small groups, like old friends. But of course many of them know each other—I'm the only new one, standing awkwardly in front of everyone, the first to be introduced since I'm the latest victor. At least I have my team, and it's probably best I'm not in the middle of the pack.

So far I've only had a handful of victors come up to talk to me. Most just look at me with sharp, judging eyes, or are too busy catching up with ones they know. The victors who do talk to me mention how unfortunate it was that I was attacked. At first I'm confused, but then I realize that Ozai had to tell them a reason for cancelling. Seems like he told them the truth. The vibes from these people are so different than the Games. No one is scared. These people are fighters, killers, even the ones who are smiling and laughing.

Everyone is dressed in all sorts of costumes. I see one woman who is nearly naked, save for several green and brown leaves covering her private areas. She looks vaguely familiar, but I can't remember her name. A man who I think is from an Air province is dressed like a cloud. I have no idea what Bowen is supposed to be, but his muscled chest is completely bare, gaining a lot of attention from the female victors. My artists are all dressed as brightly colored butterflies, with glittering wings and feelers to boot. June is in her customary black, with chains and bones hanging from her belt. Disgusted, I wave my hand wildly at her costume in question.

"A bounty hunter," she had answered simply. How fitting for her.

The room quiets more to a hush when the doors open to the ballroom. Since I'm at the front of the crowd, I'm able to catch the flickering golden light and glittering chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. Still, it's hard to see over the sudden swarm of reporters and flashing lights though. A Guard motions them off to the side, while several dozen more are stationed around the entire room. Behind me I hear everyone shuffle back into line. We're all supposed to be in a specific order for the introductions. Inside are dozens of round tables, and at the end of the ballroom are two long, rectangular high tables. About a dozen Elites—probably the top ones—sit at one, while the royal family sits at the other.

"The Capital welcomes our newest victor for the 75th Black Games, Lady Katara, and her team from Province Nine," booms Qin Lee's voice from just inside the doors. Stunned by the flashing, I don't move until Pakku nudges me forward. Joo Dee keeps a sturdy hand on my arm as we walk into the ballroom. The cameras are flashing wildly, and the Guards have to keep them back. "Victor of the 5th Black Games, Lady Hama. Victor of the 14th Black Games, Master Pakku..."

And so the introductions begin. The round tables are on either side of the room, leaving the middle open like a walk way. We make our way to the royal family's table, passing the beautifully decorated tables. Gold plates and silverware, jeweled incrusted goblets and large centerpieces filled with scarlet flowers.

When we reach the table, my eyes briefly lock with the Fire Lord as he's seated right at the center, Zuko and Iroh on either side. Ozai's eyes flicker to my throat, his mouth set in a thin line. There is intensity in his gaze that makes my skin crawl. I wonder if my sutures are not as hidden as I think. Joo Dee elbows me and I only notice then that she's bowing. I do the same, even though it about kills me.

I'm only halfway listening to Qin Lee as he rattles off the victors from Province 1 when I straighten back up. I'm too absorbed in the name tags that have been placed in front of the plates. I see my name, but it takes me a few seconds to comprehend what it means. My name is beside Prince Zuko. On his right is the Fire Lord. I'm supposed to sit at their table. How come no one told me this?

"Katara, you're holding up everyone," Joo Dee whispers anxiously in my ear.

Practically shaking, I walk to behind the table and take my seat silently on Zuko's left as the victors present themselves to us. I try to focus on that, but it's hard when you have the heir to the throne and the Fire Lord sitting next to you. Being so close to both of them makes it hard to breathe, and even harder not to turn and stare. I wish June is on my other side. Instead I have Joo Dee and Pakku. Hama and my artists have to sit at another table, one that is at least close to ours. Apparently only my escort and assigned mentor get to sit with me at the head table.

My attention snaps back when I hear her name. I'm able to put the name to the face of the woman wearing only leaves. Her name is Iona, a victor from Two. I remember watching her win the 68th. She can pack a mean punch, but her left leg was injured pretty badly after an encounter with a Firebender from Three. He practically scorched all the skin off and nearly broke it with his beefy hands. Her leg is scarred horribly now and she has a slight limp, but it doesn't stop her from being practically naked.

When Dock, the loony man from Five, is introduced, he gives me a big wave. I can't help but grin at him and his costume. He appears to be a giant, floppy hat. I have no idea why anyone would dress up as a hat, but he has. Bowen makes a grand introduction when Qin Lee gets to Province 6, sweeping deeply into a dramatic bow and winking at me. I still don't understand his costume. All he's wearing is pants, if you can even call them pants. They just look like grey rocks that have been molded together in the shape of pants. He has what looks like a grey shackle around each wrist and his earrings are the usual emerald studs that match his eyes perfectly.

When the introductions are over and everyone is seated at their assigned tables, the candles dim and dinner is served. I think the chef must have been made aware of my throat, because I'm served a cool, mashed fruit instead of leafy greens like everyone else.

Zuko leans over and murmurs in my ear. "Mangosauce. Tastes a lot better than your sea slugs."

Sea _prunes_, I want to say, but instead I dig my spoon into the golden substance. I take a bite and feel relief when it's cool down my throat. It feels good.

For the main course I'm served a rich stew which smells wonderful. I've missed regular food so much the past few days. I practically burn my tongue in my enthusiasm, earning a disapproving look from Joo Dee. As we eat our main course, I start to feel a little more relaxed, especially with the chatter picking up around me. The Fire Lord hasn't once talked to me or even looked at me—instead he's been engaged in quiet conversation with Iroh. I'm curious what they're talking about, but listening would mean pressing myself closer to Zuko. No thank you.

"Does your throat hurt?" the prince asks, glancing at me. I shake my head _no_. "You wouldn't admit it even if it does," he mutters, almost in an afterthought.

I smile softly. He's right, but really, it's not bothering me right now. It's raw and burns a little, but it's tolerable.

I watch the victors, feeling uneasy when their gazes meet mine, or when they lean in closer to whisper to someone else, staring up at me and Zuko. I know the questions are coming. Maybe the Fire Lord asked them not to mention the incident from three days ago, I don't know. Eventually though, their interest is going to prevail. I can see it in their eyes. I am too curious to them.

Dessert finally arrives and it is just as delicious as the stew, a warm ash banana pudding. Zuko pokes at his soufflé with disinterest and I smugly eat my pudding with a grin. He watches me sourly, clearly upset he doesn't get pudding.

_It's good_, I mouth to him.

His eyes narrow, and a moment later he recovers himself. He sets his spoon down and gives me a superior look, leaning closer to say, "I can have it anytime I want. I live here, you know."

Because I don't want Joo Dee to hear me, I tilt my mask back and lean so close my lips almost brush his ear. "But you don't have any now," I whisper.

Zuko turns his head so that I have no choice but to turn mine. His breath tickles my ear. "You're not supposed to be talking."

Suddenly aware how close we are, how we look, I practically lurch away from him and yank my mask back down. His eyes glimmer with amusement and we finish our dessert in silence.

After the last of the desserts have been eaten, the Fire Lord rises from his seat. Zuko immediately rises as well, and so does just about everyone else. I'm only on my feet because Joo Dee drags me up. The chatter has immediately ceased.

"You may be seated," says Ozai. I fight a glare, feeling ridiculous that I have to stand for him to stand and then be told to sit back down. The doors open in the back and reporters flood into the room, some carrying Watchers, others holding cameras and pads of paper. They stand in the opening walk way, some fixed on the victors, others on the head table.

What's going on?

"It is time to announce the Quarter Duels," Ozai begins. Oh, of course! I almost forgot. I feel myself pale, wishing I had prepared more for this moment. I can't decide where I want to look, but I figure if I look at Ozai it will be harder for anyone to see my expression. His voice rings out loud and clear.

"After this seventy-fifth anniversary of the Black Games, we celebrate the 3rd Quarter Duels. As a reminder that even the strongest cannot save and protect what they cherish, one male and one female ages twelve and above from each province will be selected from the children of the current pool of victors. Any victor that does not have a child will be eligible themselves for the reaping. The twenty-four selected tributes will face off in the traditional form of fighting that has been passed down for generations—an Agni Kai. There will…"

My mind blanks. I catch something about "rank" and "rules" and "tournament," but I'm too stunned to do anything but stare up at the Fire Lord, trying to force my brain to comprehend what's going on. When the Fire Lord finishes, cameras flash, reporters demand questions, and victors break out into loud chatter. I'm still trying to catch up.

Zuko has stiffened at my side, seemingly as frozen as I am. But then he and turns to look at me, dread and pain written all over his face. And then I know.

Realization sinks in slowly, painfully, like the dull edge of a knife piercing through my skin. Tournament. Agni Kai's to the death. I tuned out most of what the Fire Lord said, but one thing is certain: Those eligible for the Quarter Duel's reaping are the children of the victors, like Zuko and Lu Ten, as well as victors who do not have children. People like Pakku and Hama.

Like me.

* * *

**A/N**: Ah, the plot thickens. :D More info about the Quarter Duels next chapter! On a random note, I believe the quarter quell is the 75th HG. This is different in the sense that the Duels are more like a "bonus" game taking place between the 75th and 76th Black Games. The Quarter Duels are NOT a version of the Black Games..they are their own thing, just played 6 months after every quarter BG. ;) Not really a big change or big deal, but I just wanted to clarify that. :P Thanks for reading!

Review responses:

**MHZutaraFanGirl: "I can say that the Bloodbending scene was, again, very well done and fit perfectly."** - Thank you very much! I hate when something is contrived, so I have tried to stay away from that as much as possible. It's a pet peeve of mine too. Originally, I hadn't planned on Katara bloodbending, but as I was writing the scene, it made sense to me that this would be the moment she finally is able to do it. It's one of her strongest moments of willpower.

**chewing on pearls: "I really do like the way you write Zuko; caring through actions and not words."** - Thank you! That's one thing I love about his character in general is that his emotions are more clear in actions versus words.

**jeffyhardyfan93: "When you first started TBG was the ending going to be different because you hadn't planned on writing a sequel yet?"** - The ending of the actual games was going to be the same: Katara was going to kill Zuko so she could save him later. But the actual story was going to end with Zuko being crowned after his resurrection. But then I realized Ozai was still alive, and most stories don't end until the villain is gone. lol And TBG should really focus on the games, and thus end with the victor of the games. So I knew I was cramming too much into it, and thus a sequel was born. :D

**PanPan: "on a side note I was on Facebook and I noticed that a zutara group I liked posted a picture of ATLA crossover with The Hunger Games and mentioned your story The Black Games."** - I did see that! I made a poster for it and saw it on that page too. :D

**Taki-Sama101: "I guess it doesn't hurt to be hopeful for a Happy Ending once and awhile."** - Happy endings are an interesting thing, because most people would say a happy ending is Katara and Zuko ending up together, right? Well what if that meant all the other characters die, Ozai is still alive and banishes Zuko and Katara, and they have to live forever in hiding? lol That's not very happy. I wouldn't say THG ended very happy at all..I was depressed by that ending, haha. The ending to this trilogy will be more bittersweet than anything, I think.

**Dani4Short: "I'm probably wrong, but is this kina combined-ish with Legend of Korra?"** - There are some elements from LoK that tie into this story, but I wouldn't call it a crossover or anything. :P

**AmeliaDarkholme: "Btw, do you know the "Once Upon A Time" TV series?"** - I've heard of it, but haven't seen it. Which I probably should since I love fairytale stuff. :D

**Krys and Mel: "You can tell how much they love each other even without smut, which is something I really appreciate because smut doesn't always mean love, but merely lust."** - Thank you! Yeah, I think if you really want to show deep feelings, then you have to limit physical stuff like kissing, sex, etc. That's the easy way. It's more challenging to show those feelings in different ways. Plus, Zuko and Katara have so much going on it would be really weird to throw lots of smut in there, lmao.

**ShipperBody: "Also, Amun Ra would be, by any reasons, based on Amon?!"** - Maybe, maybe not! You'll have to wait and find out. :D

**Gasping For Breath: "I know cute is a word one should not use when describing Zutara, but I just have to... Looking back, I made that sound like an insult, but don't worry, it's not."** - Not an insult at all! I thought it was cute when I wrote it myself, haha. That's one thing I love about them is that there are moments that are just sweet and cute, but not overly fluffy.


	17. The Reaping

**A/N:** This is a big one guys! Get ready. :P

* * *

**Chapter 17 - The Reaping**

My eyes are now transfixed on the Fire Lord. He's still talking, but I don't hear anything but a pounding in my ears. I want to look away from his impassive, angular face, but I can't. Staring is all I'm capable of right now.

The cameras flash rapidly and I'm able to look away, feeling numb and cold, a rising hysteria building up inside me. My worries for myself vanish momentarily when I see the faces of the victors. They are filled with horror and anguish. Shock, like the ground has been pulled out beneath them. They look exactly like how I feel.

The Fire Lord pauses as the shock settles in. There is a tiny movement with his lips, the beginning of what could be a smirk. It's barely a movement, barely anything at all, but it's enough. Enough for everything inside me to explode and force my body to dislodge from my brain.

"You can't do this!" I don't recognize the hoarse shriek of my voice, the inside of my throat feeling like someone has grinded shards of ice against it; nor do I remember yanking off my mask or standing up. Joo Dee is tugging on my arm but I rip it away. Even though my throat is on fire, I force the words out. "The victor's children are supposed to be safe. That's part of the deal with winning. How can you possibly go back on a law _you_ practically wrote?"

The silence that follows my outburst makes me feel impossibly alone. Even with all the costumes and masks, I can tell by the stunned faces in the crowd that no one was going to argue. This, along with the hot rawness of my throat, only makes me angrier and suddenly I'm so frustrated I can scream. I whirl on the victors next. "And how can none of you say anything? These are _your children_."

What shocks me even more is when I see some of their faces look down, almost ashamed. _They are afraid_, I realize with a daze. The bravest, fiercest people I have ever seen, who have survived the Black Games, are still afraid. And for once, a terrifying thought occurs to me. I expect them to protest, but my own father did not protest when my brother's name was drawn. Not even when I volunteered. It was as silent as it is now.

All because of that fear. The Fire Lord controls us with fear and he knows it.

As if sparked with life, the cameras begin flashing even more wildly, but the Fire Lord holds up a hand. They are smart enough to lower their cameras. Now Ozai is looking at me and it's like we are the only two people in this room. Zuko might as well not exist, seated between us.

Power radiates off Ozai in waves of heat and for a moment, I think he might kill me. I'm about to take off running before he can summon up his fire, but his lips twitch into a trace of a smile. It might look friendly if his eyes didn't look so cold and steely.

"Your concern is most…illuminating, Katara. The laws of becoming a victor pertain to the Black Games," he says with impressive patience. "There is no law that states a child of a victor cannot be reaped in the Quarter Duels."

This explains his calm. Explains why General Iroh, too, has remained silent. I feel like I've been slapped. There is no loophole, then. No way out.

Ozai's eyes flicker to my throat and then back to my face. He's angry, that much is clear, but he's not punishing me. Why? Instead he gives me one last hard, penetrating look, and then turns back to face the victors.

"Are there any more objections?" His tone suggests a challenge, as if he _wants_ to hear someone object just so he can show them exactly what will happen when they do. Maybe he is going to punish me after all.

I don't really know why, but my gaze falls toward Zuko. He's looking down at his lap, body tense, his hands clenched against his thighs. It's only half surprising when I realize he's not going to object, not even with his life on the line.

I have never felt more betrayed and disappointed by him until now.

Looking back into the crowd, most are avoiding eye contact. Some look like they might agree but are too scared to admit it. One woman is blotting her eyes under her gold mask with a cloth. I wonder how many children she has. Bowen is the only person staring at me straight on. He's looking at me with something akin to pity and regret. I can read it on his face that he wants to say something, but he won't. What he wants to say is of little importance to me.

"If that is all, you will take seat before your interruption goes with punishment, Katara," warns the Fire Lord. His voice is flat, but the lines of his mouth and the glow to his eyes suggest otherwise. The only punishment he wants for me is for my name to be drawn. He's trapped me in a corner with no way out.

Begrudgingly I sit down. He resumes his speech but I tune it all out, keeping my gaze focused on the goblet in front of me. When the announcement is over, when the music begins—who can possibly celebrate and dance at a time like this?—I bolt from my seat without sparing my team a glance. I don't stop at the flashing of the cameras, the questions from the reporters, or the sound of Pakku's voice. I'm numb to everything but the doors that will free me from this cage. I nearly rip open my throat when I shout at a Guard for possibly the first time in my life, and order him to take me to my room. Maybe he's scared of me, maybe he's used to following orders from victors, I don't know, but he takes me either way.

We're almost to my room when a hand catches me by the elbow and spins me around. Instinct takes over and I swing a fist forward—Zuko catches it and, upon realizing it's him, I take a harder second swing. He catches that too, as though expecting it, and pins my arms to my side.

"Leave us," he snarls at the Guard.

"But—"

"_I said leave_!" Zuko shouts. "That is an order!"

The Guard scurries away with a sound of clanking metal.

I'm so angry right now that I'm shaking, half tempted to see if Zuko will be able to catch my knee going for his groin. He holds my arms steady at my sides, his gaze boring into mine. What feels like a century passes, but in all likelihood it's only a minute.

Finally I pull my gaze away, my jaw clenching. "Let me go."

"No. Not until—"

"_Let me go_."

It must be something in my voice because he does, releasing my arms slowly. I can feel him watching me with hesitation.

I take a deep breath. "I don't know why you followed me when I have nothing to say to you."

"You're not supposed to be talking at all," he says quietly.

I look at him sharply, unnerved by his comment. Right now I don't care how much my throat burns. I don't even care that _he_ cares. I'm so angry with him for caring about my stupid throat when he should be caring about the fact that we're probably going to die soon!

"You're doing enough not talking for the both of us," I say, and reach up to yank the necklace off. The clasp breaks in my frustration. Zuko winces as though the action physically hurts him and when I shove the necklace into his chest, the look on his face almost has me retracting my hand. He looks devastated, like I've broken his heart.

"I have believed in you every second of every day," I say quietly. "Until now."

And then I turn away, leaving him shrouded in darkness, clutching the ruby necklace and what feels like the remains of my own heart.

It isn't until I'm safely locked in my room does my throat start to ache from unshed tears. My energy drains out of me so quickly that I can't even make it to my bed. With my back pressed against the wood, I slide down the door to the ground. I want to cry, to release this building frustration within me, but none will come.

Frustrated, I lean forward, and then slam my back into the door. I do it again, and again, feeling my hair fall out of its style with each slam. I do this over and over until I'm finally able to cry. And then I can't stop. I pull my knees to my chest and sob, digging my palms into my eyes.

I don't know how long I cry, or how many times someone knocks on my door and I choke out "Go away!" But finally I stop because the pain in my throat is too much from the crying and all the shouting.

My eyes feel puffy and achy, heavy with the need to close. I'm so tired but my mind is too restless to sleep. So I just sit here, sprawled on the floor, my hair a mess around my shoulders and what I'm sure is make-up running down my face.

To make matters worse, my eyes find the mirror and staring back at me is a broken, shadow of a girl I once knew. I'm ashamed of how I look, even if no one can see me. The sutures at my throat seem to mock me. The beauty of the dress is overshadowed by the image of a weak, defeated, shattered looking girl.

_Win_, Sokka said to me in the Games. _Don't let them win_.

As long as I look like the girl in the mirror, feeling sorry for myself and sobbing, then I have already lost. I am letting Ozai beat me right at this very moment when he didn't even have to lift a finger to do so.

I grip the door handle and pull myself to my feet shakily. Moving slower than usual, I peel out of my dress and lay it across the vanity stool. The color reminds me of Zuko, and that hurts so much I want to shred it to pieces. But I won't do that to June's work, so I turn away and slip into some night clothes before crawling into bed. There is a small bottle of syrup for pain on the night stand and I take a swig, hoping it will coat and numb my throat.

I lean back and shut my eyes, but all I can see is the victor's faces when they realized their children were going to be reaped. Even though every parent has to watch their child try to survive, they are not their mentor. If a mentor fails their tribute, they have to live with that guilt. Failing your child is a completely different thing. That kind of guilt is the kind that will drown you until you borderline insanity, knowing you are partially responsible for whether or not your child survives. And then what? How can a parent and child ever have a normal relationship ever again? _Oh, remember that time I trained you to kill twelve year olds'? Or how about the time I got a sponsor to send you an axe so you could go around beheading other tributes?_

I don't think any of us who have survived can ever lead a normal life again. I may not even get the chance to reach my seventeenth birthday since I have a fifty percent chance of being selected for the Duels. If I'm not, then I will be responsible for Hama _and_ Pakku's lives.

Hama and Pakku.

Just thinking about it makes me want to throw up. It will be up to me if they get sponsors and if they die, I will have to live with the fact that I failed them. If I am selected, then—

The thought sends shivers down my spine. I remember the Agni Kai with Azula and Zuko. _I_ can't do that. I can't fight like that. Especially not against previous victors and their children. I stand no chance at all.

There is nothing ahead for me but loss.

* * *

On the first day since the dinner, Joo Dee and Pakku drill me about my outburst from last night. Joo Dee is so worked up I almost feel bad for her. Sometimes I forget how my actions reflect on others. I bear their lecture in silence because part of me knows it was stupid, even if it was the right thing to do. Pakku eventually surprises me by admiring my courage, but of course he ruins the compliment with an insult.

"_Your bravery cannot be questioned and it is admirable, but you are a foolish, stupid girl."_

On the second day, I talk to Hama about bloodbending. She's proud of me, even when I try—and fail—to do it again. She tells me the night I was attacked was nearly a full moon, so I will probably have to wait until then. She doesn't have to point out that the next full moon will be when the Quarter Duels are going on, but it nags at the back of my mind. I don't know if I'll ever need to bloodbend again, but I may not live long enough to try.

In the afternoon, I decide to write a letter. It's my only way of communicating with him, and this could be my last chance. I choose not to tell him about my recent attack. Chances are he'll find out eventually, but there's no reason to cause him more grief and worry.

_Dear Dad,_

_I don't know when you will get this, but I had to write you. I know you already know because the announcement was live, but I am not allowed to come back home. I have to stay here and wait because the children of the victors are supposed to be arriving in the next two days. They are doing the reaping here at the Capital. My chances are fifty-fifty, as I'm sure you know. I'll try to look on the bright side, but I'm finding it very dark here. I spent so many years in school but they never taught us how to say goodbye. So I don't want you to think of this letter as a goodbye. Think of it as Katara's Guide to Life. But first, I want to tell you about the tour and the Fire provinces._

_Five reminded me of home, even though it was sticky and hot. The people were very friendly to me, especially Ty Lee's family. I visited Avatar Roku's monument and it's not really a monument any more. It was very sad to look at. Do you think the Avatar will ever exist again? I saw some scary looking creatures in Three. If you see a komodo rhino, run the other way. The play in Two was awful. I won't even begin to talk about it because it just makes me angry. I got to meet one of my sponsors. She was…something else. All in all, I enjoyed the tour more than I thought I would. It was interesting to see how the rest of the world lives. You'd be surprised how much some of them are like me and you._

_I promised my Guide to Life, didn't I? Well, here we go. There are some things you have to promise me you will remember:_

_1) Don't try to bake. Just stop by Kami's. 2) Put your boots by the fire BEFORE you go to sleep, but make sure the fire is small so you don't burn the house down. Remember how the pelts caught on fire when I was nine? 3) You must wash your socks on a regular basis—we can afford hot water now so no excuses! 4) If Hama is around, invite her to dinner at least once a week. 5) Visit Rox at the White House and bring her any rocks you find. 6) Eat your vegetables and fruits. 7) Make a new friend every week. 8) Don't be afraid to find love again. 9) Count your blessings before you go to sleep. 10) Don't let the fear of failure stop you from trying._

_Okay, you told me that last one when I was little, but it was good advice. I'm getting to the edge of the parchment now, so I just want to say a few more things. No matter what happens, promise me you will find happiness. My spirit will not rest until you do. I love you, Dad, forever and always. You are my hero and I hope I will make you proud. But this is not a goodbye letter, remember? So I won't say it. _

_I'll miss you until I see you again,_

_Katara_

On the third day, we talk strategy. Pakku gave me several days to recover—physically and emotionally—and now we have to face the inevitable. I wish we didn't have to talk over lunch because it's making me sick enough already. Talking about it makes it more real and part of me keeps waiting to wake up from this nightmare.

Pakku and Hama fill me in on the details I tuned out during dinner. The actual rules and guidelines will be given to us the day of the reaping—tomorrow—but we do know the fighting will be in the customary Agni Kai. Pakku thinks the Duels will be in the form of a single elimination tournament, so every winner advances and fights another winner, until only one is left standing. He says even before the Black Games there were tournaments of this nature. It seems almost worse to me than the Games because there is no hiding, no recovering, and no allies. Just you against one other fighter.

"What about sponsors? How does that work?" I ask, thankful I can finally discuss things without wincing from pain every other sentence. Most of the sutures have fallen out, leaving behind a faint white scar.

"I have received nothing," says Joo Dee, sounding frustrated. She stirs her tea with too much enthusiasm and tiny droplets fall onto the tablecloth. She's too distracted to notice. "My guess is that sponsors will be responsible for your weapons and advancements. Water for you, for example, is quite necessary."

"I'll need a sponsor for _water_?" I ask, stunned. "That's not fair! Firebenders and Airbenders don't need a sponsor for their element!"

"Better work on your charm or you're going to be out of luck," says Pakku.

I glare at him and slink back into my chair.

On the fourth day, I wake early because it's reaping day. My arm feels stiff and numb when I push back my covers. I tossed and turned all night.

June and my artists help me get ready. They fill my head with helpless banter, but their worry and fear is clear in their voices. I'm just as afraid and nervous as they are, but it does me no good to admit it. Nina has to keep blotting her eyes but we all pretend she's not crying. Somehow it's easier that way, even though I've never been one not to comfort someone who is crying before.

I'm pleasantly surprised my outfit is arctic blue, a matching tunic and pant set. Nina pulls my hair up into a wolf's tail and Cho adds some arm bands and gloves. The reflection staring back at me is a fierce girl from Province 9. No smiles. No cheerfulness. Nothing but cold determination. I like the image much more than the one from a few days ago.

June's lips turn up in the corners. "Now there's a victor."

_If only I had my mother's necklace_, I think sadly, wondering when I'll see it again.

The girl's finish me up with a few more tears—not June, of course—and then Joo Dee collects me to meet with a recorder. Apparently they are recording an interview of all the potential tributes. She leads me out into the corridor, where two Guards and a recorder waits with a Watcher dangling around his neck. Pakku and Hama are here too.

"We just need your name and province number, if you please!" says the recorder. He grabs me by the arm and shoves me against the wall. "Oh, take a step forward so your hair doesn't catch on fire, will you?"

_What?_

The Guards move on either side of me and punch forward. Instinct takes over and I leap forward into Hama before the fire can touch me. "What are you doing?" I ask them angrily.

"It's for the background. Oh, I should have warned you," says Joo Dee, sighing. She pats my head and drags me in front of the wall made of fire. The Guards must be controlling the heat because it's not as hot as it should be. "It will only be a second."

"Name and province. One, two—" The recorder lifts the Watcher, spins the handle and motions at me with his other hand.

I stare at it head on, keeping my face void of emotion. "Katara, Province 9," I say seriously.

The recorder gives me the thumbs up. "Excellent. Next victor, if you please!"

Pakku's enthusiasm is even less than mine was, and the recorder seems quite glad when he packs up and leaves. He is too cheery for my taste. But then again, he probably isn't going to be dying soon.

* * *

The royal plaza is jam packed with victors, their children, and citizens of the Province One overlooking from the stands. Guards patrol in every direction, about a dozen lining the balcony overlooking the plaza. Some are holding Watchers and like the reaping in Nine, there is a huge screen set up off to the left. It's blank right now, but I know it will soon be filled with our faces. A large wooden stage and dais has been set up at the front of the plaza. A wall of fire burns behind it, reminding me of the Throne Room in the palace.

All of us potential tributes are roped off by provinces. Our section for Nine looks embarrassingly empty compared to everyone else's. Next to us I see a woman in Eight singing softly with her arms wrapped around a child who can't be older than twelve. The little boy has tears in his eyes.

It feels very much like it did during my first reaping. Panic and worry surrounding me, a beating sun glaring into my eyes. Last time I had twenty slips in the bowl. This time I have one. And yet the odds are not in my favor. Funny how I had a better chance of not being selected with twenty slips versus the one I have now.

A gong rings out and the double doors open. Fire Lord Ozai steps out, taking center stage above us on the balcony. He's accompanied by Zhao and three other Elites I don't recognize—I think they represent water, earth and air.

The Fire Lord begins his opening speech, but I'm hardly listening. All I can think about is how small our section is, how I have an entirely equal chance of being selected, how Zuko's name is in there too, and how I will never be able to face Pakku or the prince if I have to.

Murmurs from the crowd bring me back to reality where I can hear again. "What did he say?" I ask Hama quietly, leaning toward her.

"The rules for the Duels will be announced once all tributes are selected. Volunteers will be taken at the end."

Odd they are taking volunteers at the end. Will anyone volunteer? Especially when they don't know the exact rules in which they are fighting?

"And now, for the reaping," says the Fire Lord. I look to the screen for a clearer picture as Zhao walks over and holds a large glass bowl filled with dozens of slips in front of Ozai. "The male tribute selected for the Quarter Duels is—" Surprise, clear as day, flashes across his face. My breathing stills as I imagine the worse "—Iroh."

_Oh no!_ My gasp is lost as the screen roars with life. There is the General's face in black and white, a roaring fire behind him. "Iroh, Province 1," he says, just like I had earlier.

I'm so stunned by what is going on that it takes me a moment to recover. How? "How is this possible?" I ask Pakku in alarm, but he looks as troubled and surprised as me.

"If his name is in the reaping, it will be because he is the son of the creator of the Black Games," Pakku says finally.

Iroh has made his way to the stage. He has the grace to bow to the Fire Lord, who has recovered his shock. Half the crowd is protesting. The other half is stunned. If what Pakku says is true, then Ozai's name should be in there as well. I have half a mind to shatter that bowl and find his name myself.

The crowd quiets when Ozai holds up his hand. I wonder how Zuko is taking this; I half expect him to storm the stage. I'm sure a Watcher captured his reaction, but I missed it. Even as hurt as I am over what he did—or _didn't_ do, more like—I'd never wish this kind of pain on him.

Zhao brings over a second, less filled bowl. Ozai reaches inside and pulls out a second slip. "The female tribute is Lia," he announces.

A woman in her early thirties makes her way to the stage as her picture pops onto the screen. She actually has footage from Judging by her immediate ascent, she must not have children. She holds her head high and joins Iroh on the stage.

The reaping falls into a routine, Zhao carrying over a bowl and a name being withdrawn. Certain names are familiar to me, like Iona who is selected from Two. She's the woman I saw wearing nothing but leaves at the celebration dinner. Chit Sang is called for Three. I recognize him as the only victor who was sitting alone when I visited his province. He is huge, frightening, and I don't want to be within ten feet of him. A little girl is called for Four, possibly a year or two younger than me. Her mother screams when she's taken away. Piandao is selected from Five, which upsets me more than it should.

The woman selected from Six has to be the oldest so far. She walks with a hunch, her grey hair poking out of a messy bun. I tune out provinces Seven and Eight, mostly because all I can think about is my single slip in the bowl.

Ozai doesn't bother to draw out his name. "The male tribute for Province 9 is Pakku."

I expect it, and yet it still feels like a punch to the stomach. I watch him take the stage, feeling like part of me left with him. Hama reaches over and holds my hand gently when Zhao brings over our bowl. I look down, closing my eyes, the sound of my heart hammering in my ears. Everyone is unnaturally silent, or maybe I can't hear anything but the pounding.

…..

…

..

"The female tribute is Katara."

My stomach drops and I decide for good that knowing ahead of time does not make the news any less painful. There are cries of protest, some citizens in the stands actually being restrained by Guards, but I try to concentrate on the sound of my name as I hear my earlier recording say, "Katara, Province 9."

"It will be okay," says Hama, squeezing my hand. A Guard lifts the red rope and I step forward, making my way blindly to the stage. I can feel the stare of a thousand eyes on my back but I keep going. I try to keep my face blank—and honestly it's not that hard since I'm numb all over—because I don't want to show my fear. Inside I'm screaming.

I don't trust my reaction when I'm before the Fire Lord, so I simply move past him, avoiding eye contact like I had seen Chit Sang do. I walk to the end of the line of victors and take my place beside Pakku. I'm pretty sure my legs are going to give out at this point, but thankfully Pakku chooses this moment to put his arm around my shoulders and squeeze. I try not to make it obvious, but I sink against him so I don't fall apart completely.

I don't realize I'm looking for him until my eyes lock with Zuko. He's standing in the front of the Province 1 section, a hand clenching in his hair. He has a wild, desperate look on his face, a pained agony carefully concealed underneath it all. I wonder if I look the same because it's exactly how I feel.

Ozai announces Ten thru Twelve, only one of which I remember seeing. Mina from Ten is an Airbender who moves with such speed that I'd want her to be my ally. Too bad I can't have any allies this time. The boy selected from Twelve looks to be about my age. His eyes are shining with tears when he takes the stage.

The crowd has begun to murmur again, but they fall silent the moment Ozai lifts his hand again. "Volunteers will now be called forward," he says. I keep my eyes trained on the ground so my face is hard to record. "Province One, please step forward if you wish to volunteer."

"I volunteer."

My head snaps up. "No!" My voice is drowned by the protesting crowd. I try to step forward, but Pakku keeps hold of me tight. "No, he can't!"

"There is nothing you can do right now," Pakku whispers in my ear. "Don't make it worse."

I know he's right, but watching the crowd part for Zuko as he walks forward is like watching the world suddenly collapse all around me. His eyes meet mine briefly as he reaches the steps. The gold in them is endless, drowning me. More than anything, I want to beg him to stop, not to make me his enemy.

_Don't do this. You are supposed to live, to change the world! I can't let you go._

His expression changes, like he knows exactly what I'm thinking. His shoulders are set, determined, but there is regret in his eyes. _I'm sorry._

"No..." The word is nothing but a desperate hush, audible to no one. He's not even looking at me anymore, now facing his uncle.

The General must say something that I can't hear, because Zuko responds, "It's done, Uncle." He looks to his father, his chin held high. "I volunteer in his place."

The moment the words are said, the screen flashes and Zuko's face pops up. "Zuko, Province 1," echoes around the plaza.

I can hardly breathe. I blink and stare out into the crowd with unseeing eyes. Numb. I just feel dead and numb. Someone volunteers for Piandao. I hardly pay attention until I see who it is. My heart constricts at the familiar, patchy clothed man, his grey hair sticking in all directions. It's Dock. He is not mentally stable enough for this. He dances onto the stage, creating laughter in the audience. How anyone can laugh at a time like this, especially at him of all people, I have no idea. It makes me so mad I want to scream, but then I hear another familiar voice when Ozai asks for volunteers in Province 6.

"I volunteer!"

I close my eyes, thinking I must be dreaming up a nightmare, but no, when I open them, there is Bowen taking the stage as hundreds of female cries can be heard around the plaza.

_This is not happening. Wake up, Katara. Wake up!_

And just when I think it's all over, when things can't get any worse, Ozai asks for volunteers from Province 9.

"I will volunteer in Katara's place," says the unmistakable voice of Hama.

I know I should feel relieved, happy even, but my first reaction is simply _no_. I think I black out, because one moment I see nothing and the next Hama is standing before me with a soft smile and kindness in her eyes. She embraces me, pulling me into her withered arms. Her strength keeps me standing.

"It will be okay," she says.

_No_, I think, detached, _it won't._

* * *

**A/N:** So there you have it! Next chapter will reveal the official list of tributes for all the provinces, as well as the rundown for the Duels. (I know it's still unclear right now. Don't worry, it's supposed to be!) One of the reasons I didn't want Katara to fight again was because I wanted to explore the Duels from a mentor perspective as well. :D And I am quite sorry that Zuko and Bowen are both in the Duels...plot called for it. Thanks for reading!

Review responses:

**No Name: "You inspire me and I want to write a Zutara story on here too"** - That is the highest compliment! Zutara fanfiction inspired me to write, so I am honored that something I wrote could inspire you. :D I wish you luck with your story!

**Sonja: "does your Zuko have season 3 hair?"** - Yes! lol I get this question so much that I guess I wasn't clear in my descriptions, haha.

**Bridget Friste: "I adore how you make it not just about zuko and Kataras relationship but about the deeply psychological impact of death on katara"** - Thank you! Yeah, a lot of this story deals with Katara and how the impact of the Games has affected her. It's sort of what transitions her from what we saw in the beginning to more like how she is in canon. In the beginning of TBG, Katara didn't have much hope (which is what she's known for in canon) but now she's starting to find some. :D

**"is Bowen gay?"** - Lol definitely not. He's sort of a ladies man.

**xMidnight Rose: "I know you said you don't want to add a love triangle to the story, but if you were to do you think it would suite more to Bowen or Lu Ten?"** - With Katara and Zuko? I'd say a love triangle in this story wouldn't suit Katara being in the middle at all. Not at this point, at least. I suppose you can sort of see a triangle in the third installment, but I won't say who is in it!

**invisableninja13: "so would zuko be counted as a victor? and what was bowen?"** - No, Zuko is not considered a victor. Those who can be selected for the tributes are the children of the victors. Since Ozai is a victor, that means Zuko can be selected. If a victor has no children, like Bowen and Katara, then their names go in for selection.

**MagicalBender: "Thank You for sharing your imagination and talent with the rest of us"** - Aw well thank you for giving my story a shot! It's a scary thing throwing your ideas out there for others to judge. :P I'm just blessed with such great readers.

**Random Reader: "I could be wrong, but isn't the quarter quell the 75th game itself?"** - In THG, you are right. I changed it so the Duels are their own thing, not a version of The Black Games. It's played after the 75th BG, between the 75th and 76th. :D


	18. Mentor

**A/N:** Wow that felt like it took me a long time to update, lol. This chapter gave me so much trouble, but I finally managed to finish it. Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter 18 - Mentor**

It takes me a moment to find my voice and when I do, I barely recognize it. "No, I can't let—why?"

Hama just smiles and caresses my cheek with a soft, withered hand. "You will understand," she says.

"But, wait—" I start, and then a Guard is dragging me away, off the stage. Partially because I don't want to make a scene, and partially because part of me is too numb to do anything but be drug along, I don't fight him off. When we reach Province Nine's section, he lifts the rope and practically shoves me at Joo Dee. She scoffs at his manners, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. It all happens so fast and my brain is functioning so slowly that it's like I'm trapped in a nightmare.

The Fire Lord is calling for volunteers. I can't hear what province. Someone must step forward—vaguely I can hear the crowd murmuring—but all my attention is focused on the stage. Zuko. Pakku. Hama. Bo. None of them are looking at me, but they have to know I want them to. I imagine how they can't feel the weight of my stare.

I _hate_ this so badly I'm about to scream. I hate being on this side, the side that can do nothing but stare at the prey to be hunted. I may have felt helpless for myself up there, but now I feel helpless for people I care about. I never imagined there could be anything worse than being selected, but this is.

"I can't let this happen," I mutter to myself. Joo Dee must hear me though because she grabs me tightly by the elbow, yanking me closer.

"If you protest or make a scene, you will be killed instantly or taken away," she whispers. "That is Capital protocol. You know this."

I do, now that my senses are slowly coming back. Her words stir up a sudden memory from many years ago. I remember the reaping, a woman being struck down for protesting when her son's name was called in Province 9. Her unconscious body was hauled away, her body dragged through the snow lifelessly. Her son died in the opening bloodbath, but she was not at the square when it was reported. We never saw her again.

The Fire Lord lifts a hand in the direction of the tributes. There is something very dark and angry in his eyes, only I can't fathom why. "I now introduce your tributes for the 3rd Quarter Duels," he says, his voice surprisingly calm despite the fury burning beneath.

The crowd of Province 1 erupts into applause and excitement. While some of the victors join in the cheering, most of them are like me, stunned and silent. The Fire Lord inclines his head to the Head Elite, who takes the front of the stage with his usual smug arrogance.

"The Duels will begin with a tournament, in honor of the Games of Old," says Zhao, silencing the crowd with his opening statement. Their curiosity is sickening. "Instead of the traditional ten, tributes will fight in groups of four against each other and beasts released into the arena. To move on, only two tributes can survive. The final twelve who have proved they are worthy will honor the Agni Kai in a single elimination tournament. You will duel until _defeat_. The spectators will decide if the defeated shall be spared. The victor will move on to fight another duel. The final Agni Kai will be a duel to the death and the victor will be rewarded most generously."

Zhao pauses to let the words sink in. The crowd is effectively engaged, whispering to one another. I don't see any cameras flashing, but Watchers are recording from many directions, capturing all angles.

None of that matters though. All that matters are the rules I have to remember.

A tournament with four in a group, fighting each other and beasts thrown into the arena. Two will live, two will die. Agni Kai's to defeat. Spectators can spare the life of the loser. Gaining sponsors and popularity is more crucial than ever. Final Agni Kai is to the death.

I let out a shaky breath. So there is still one victor, but more than one life can be spared? Everyone doesn't necessarily have to die? Zuko, Pakku, Hama and Bo just have to survive the first round! The rest is up to the people.

I feel myself sag a little against Joo Dee. I could cry in relief. I have the briefest flash of light at the end of the tunnel, just a sliver of hope that not all is lost. _Just get them past the first round_, I tell myself. _And then focus on popularity._

"The Duels will begin in two weeks," Zhao continues, once the crowd has quieted. "The arena will hold up to forty-thousand Fire province citizens and families of the tributes. Those wishing to attend the Duels will need to purchase tickets from their assembly building. First come, first serve. Tributes, bid goodbye to your loved ones and choose your mentor. You will then be transferred to the location of the Duels and further instruction will be given. May the odds be ever in your favor."

The Elites and the Fire Lord exit the stage, and victors make their way back into their roped areas with more hope than before. I'm a little stunned—though I suppose I shouldn't be—that Ozai doesn't spare Zuko a second glance. He's just another tribute, easily forgotten. The prince doesn't spare his father one either, or me for the matter. He disappears into the crowd quickly.

Everyone seems to be in mixed reactions. Most of the Capital crowd is cheering, chanting the names of their favorite tribute—Zuko and Bowen gaining the most popularity, unsurprisingly—while some victors and children are crying. But mostly there is a lot of murmuring, the sound of game plans formulating. Even though more than one person may come out alive, I just want to stand up and scream with how wrong this still is. All of it. We are _people_, not entertainment.

Pakku and Hama finally make their way back to our section. I hug them both tightly. I have grown so close with them that the thought of never seeing them again hurts more than I ever expect it could. Hama looks concerned, but not for herself, more like a troubling thought is bothering her. I want to say something, anything, but Pakku won't let me. He silences me with a raised finger.

"What's done is done. There is only forward and little time to get there," he says.

I open my mouth to protest, and then close it. Right now I need to focus on my duty, what I owe them. "I guess this means I'm your mentor now," I say.

Pakku lets out a breath. "Spirits help us all."

We don't have time to talk about strategy because the Elites waste no time rounding us up. All the new tributes and their mentors are placed in the Capital carriages. I wonder where the rest of my team is, if they will be meeting us. It is only Joo Dee and I in this carriage, and I doubt the Guard driving will appreciate me asking about my team.

We ride through the city, past citizens who cheer for us on the streets. Some are even waving flags with various province numbers sewn into the fabric. Only once it dies down a little do I peek out from the curtain.

No shiny tiled roofs. Hardly any houses at all, actually, more like lookout houses raised on wooden panels. This is definitely a more secluded area of the city. Finally we reach a high wall made of stone. A Guard motions us through, lifting his arm to remove the gate of fire. I don't see anything ahead but blackness.

A little alarmed now, I glance at Joo Dee. She's looking the other way, a hand clenched on the front of her robes. I can tell she's worried about something. Not that she isn't _always_ worried, but she's been too quiet. I can't shake the bad feeling I have about all of this.

The carriage stops and I practically fall out the door because I get out so quickly. There are more carriages in front and behind, bringing in victors and their mentors. My eyes search for Zuko, but not for very long. Something else captures my full attention.

I have to crane my neck back to take in the huge, fortified stone tower that stands behind a tall, thick wall. We are at one of the edges of the Capital, the crater walls curving over the massive fortress. There are Guards pacing the top of the wall, two more standing in front of a huge stone door that has a black flame burnt into it. I can't shake the eerie, cold feeling when I look at it all.

"What is this place?" I whisper in awe.

Joo Dee pushes past me, eyes wide, as though what she's seeing cannot be real. "But it can't be," she murmurs. "Surely not."

There is a lot of murmuring and confusion all around us. Someone moves to stand next to me, but I can't bother to look, too captivated by what I'm staring at.

"This is where the Games of Old began."

Shocked, I turn in the direction of the voice, at Hama. She's gazing up at the fortress as though it is an old enemy, a bleak darkness shadowing her face. "I never thought I'd…this is where I competed in the Black Games, I'm almost sure of it," she says quietly. "The structure is bigger now. This tower did not exist, but I remember that…the emblem burnt into the door. They stopped holding the Black Games here after my year and moved to a new outdoor location. I suspect Azulon wanted to separate the meaning behind the Games of Old and the Black Games."

"It doesn't look like an arena of any kind," I say.

More and more carriages are piling in, crowding the narrow pavement. Everyone else seems to have the same reactions we do: a mix of fear, curiosity and awe as they stare up at it. The Guards continue to stay stationary along the high wall like the proper watch dogs they are, waiting for orders.

"That's because the arena is underground," says Hama. "This is a prison, Katara."

I look at her sharply, my mouth suddenly dry as bone. "What? The Games were held in…_a prison_?"

Hama says nothing. I glance at Joo Dee in desperation, and the look on her face confirms it. She has gone unnaturally pale, staring up at the prison like it's a ghost from a nightmare. For once she seems to be at a loss for words.

"Move, Province 9. You're blocking the path," a Guard barks at me.

I look behind me at more carriages continuing to make their way up the pavement to find that yes, we are sort of blocking the path. It's really the least of my worries. "But there are prisoners in there," I say, not moving.

"Prisoners have been evacuated for the remainder of the Duels," says the Guard. It's a woman, judging by her voice. She's as tall and wide as my dad, leaving little room for argument. The way her hand itches at her side to call on fire does not help matters either.

Joo Dee seems to snap out of her reverie. She looks at the Guard, suddenly horrified and offended. "You don't expect us to _stay_ here, do you?" she asks.

"I expect you to know your place and follow orders," the Guard bites out harshly.

"Maybe…maybe they have nicer cells for the escorts," I offer Joo Dee weakly.

"Nicer cells. _Nice_ prison cells?" she shrieks. "Do not fool yourself, Katara. You certainly won't fool me! I am not like you people, all uncivilized and peasantry. I _cannot_ stay here!"

I have to fight myself not to roll my eyes. Truthfully I'm about as hesitant as going inside as she is, but for far different reasons. I spent weeks sleeping on the ground and in trees and caves. I care little about cleanliness and comfort. It's the idea of being trapped in a prison with barred cells and locked doors that worries me.

The Guard must decide we are stalling too long because—while Hama goes quietly—she grabs Joo Dee by the elbow and starts to drag her to the entrance tower. The look on her face is so priceless I can't decide if I should help her or let it go. Pakku seems to come from nowhere. He gives me a _well, here we go_ kind of look, and together we make our way silently to the prison.

The closer I get, the higher the outer wall seems, though it's not quite as high as the walls of eye in Province 9. Still, there are turrets along the wall that stretch even higher, with Guards posted as lookouts. Two more Guards let us pass through the wall and we're met with a huge draw bridge that leads to the tower. The mote surrounding it is boiling with water. Without the bridge, it looks like an impossible leap.

Pakku and I cross the bridge, following behind two Airbenders. They could easily fly over the mote if they wanted to. _Not that they lock up Airbender's here. I'm guessing Provinces 10 and 11 have their own prisons, just like we do,_ I think grimly.

The doors to the tower are open as we approach it. Before I enter, my eyes shift to the wall behind me, at the Guards staring at us as they patrol. Feels like everywhere I go someone is watching.

In the tower, the first thing I notice is the cold, and then the smell of iron and dampness. There are no windows in the atrium, just a faint gold glow from the fire lit sconces. The cavernous walls travel high, a staircase spiraling all the way up to the top. There are tunnels leading out of the atrium as well, flanked by patrolling Guards. Six Elites stand at the front of the atrium, their faces ancient and expressionless. As more tributes and their mentors and escorts arrive, I am pushed closer to the front. I receive a harsh blow to the shoulder as Sage, the girl who cannot talk from Twelve, marches past me, scowling over her shoulder like I'm somehow to blame.

I hear Bowen's laugh before I see him. While everyone is tensely waiting for the rest of the tributes to arrive, his presence seems to give warmth to the otherwise dreary place. A female tribute—I think she's from an Earth Province, judging by her green clothes—actually kisses him full on the mouth when she sees him, like they are longtime lovers. He catches me staring and winks at me, his lips smiling against hers. I look away uncomfortably, fighting a blush.

That's when I feel the presence of everyone staring—and the person behind me. I know its Zuko even without turning. From the moment I met him there has been this intoxicating force about him, making it impossible to ignore him. It hasn't changed with time.

He moves past me slowly, deliberately, and carefully shifts his body so he doesn't touch me. His eyes flicker to my face briefly, and then he brushes past and vanishes amongst the sea of victors and mentors, who are every bit eager to talk with him. It's stupid, really, but my stomach twists into something that almost feels like abandonment.

_He abandoned you at the dinner and he's doing it now. He belongs there anyway, with his admirers_. _He belongs in the sunlight, not back here in the shadows._

Angrily, I try to shove the thoughts away, but they continue to plague the back of my mind. I want so badly to understand him, but he's constantly changing paths, like he doesn't know which direction to go. And the worst part is that my deepest fear is that I have been deceiving myself. If people can change in the Games, can they change back when they get out? What if the boy who saved me time and time again stayed in the arena and the son of the Fire Lord is all that remains?

There is no denying that he has been kind to me since the Games. He has touched me in more ways than anyone else ever has. It's the little things he does that mean so much to me, like the notepad and the necklace. But that is not enough. This goes beyond what makes _me_ happy. I am not the type of person who can live in luxury and be treated with kindness while the rest of the world suffers and burns. I did not save him for my personal benefit and wants. I saved him so he could change the world.

"_You want more for your people. Not just Province One, but all of them. You do have a heart. A heart of courage, of strength, of passion, of loyalty. And it didn't take me plunging a knife into it to figure that out."_

"_What if you're wrong about me?"_

What if I am?

I'm so absorbed in my own thoughts that the real surprise comes when a hand gently touches my arm, making me jump. I'm greeted with a warm smile and soft, gold eyes. "General Iroh?" I say, pleasantly both surprised and not surprised all at once. "You're Zuko's mentor again?"

"Being the prince's mentor is a full time job, and I have spent many years doing it," he says fondly. He turns his gaze to Pakku and, to my surprise, bows slightly. "It is unfortunate we can never meet in pleasant situations, Master Pakku."

"I'd say the tides are beginning to turn, General."

Iroh smiles. "Indeed they are." He looks back at the crowd, and that smile fades into something longing and sad. I don't have to follow his gaze to know where his mind has drifted.

"He did it because he loves you," I offer gently.

The General glances back at me, still sad, but something warm hidden in the depths of gold. "I do not think I am the only person he did it for."

Before I can even fathom up a response, he's gone, heading to the bulk of the crowd to find the prince. I step forward. Pakku catches my elbow—where was I going?—and I follow his gaze to the front of the atrium. One of the Elites has held up a hand, effectively silencing the room. It's not Zhao, I notice idly. Where is our dear Head Elite, anyway?

"Tributes, you will be taken to the training facility and then to your rooms. Mentors and escorts, this way."

I say goodbye to Pakku reluctantly and wade through the crowd to find Joo Dee. Of course she's at the front by the Elites, meaning I have to walk through the middle of everyone to reach her. I keep my head down, ignoring the murmurs around me. Bo has the nerve to whistle as I pass, earning a few laughs. I'd slap him into the next century if I had time.

When I reach Joo Dee, I can tell by her expression that she's tried arguing her way out of staying here and lost. She greets me with a brief smile, but her lips are nearly trembling.

An Elite holds open a door, gesturing for us to take the corridor. All I see is a dark abyss. Instinct, and maybe something else, causes me to pause before going inside. My legs completely lock up and it almost feels like I've hit an invisible force field. But I know that isn't right. It's because of the heat I feel on my back, of what I know is behind me. Leaving behind Pakku, Zuko, and even Bo, feels like I'm leaving an arm or a leg or something essential. Didn't stop Toph from being brave, though, and she can't see anything.

I walk through the doorway without looking back.

The corridor is dimly lit without doors or windows. Two Elites walk in the front, two more in the back, effectively trapping us. I know I'm a mentor, which means I should be safe, but I can't ignore the familiar feeling of being trapped. Call it aftereffects of the Games or being surrounded by icy water my whole life. I can't shake the feeling and it unnerves me, making me extra jumpy.

The Elites stop suddenly, and what looks like a dozen more joins us from the end of the corridor. "Every Province is assigned three Elites that will be the bridge between the tributes and their sponsors." He then starts to rattle off the provinces, assigning us our new team of Elites. When Nine is called, Joo Dee and I rush forward.

"Follow us," one of them says. So much for happy greetings, then. The only real encounter I've had with an Elite ended in me exploding the wine. Probably explains their coldness to me, or maybe it's just me in general. Either way, they are indifferent and guarded, unfriendly.

We are lead further away from the atrium, so far in fact that I can't hear anything but our soft footsteps and the sound of the Elite's long robes brushing against the stone floor. We pass empty cells that I refuse to stare at longer than a half second. Most have cuffs chained to the wall.

"You are a new mentor this year," says the same Elite, the only one who has spoken so far. It isn't a question because it doesn't need to be.

"Yes," I reply.

"Then the rules should not confuse you," he says, his voice slightly raspy like Zuko's. "The Duels and sponsorships will be a little different than they were in the Black Games."

"How so? And where are we going?" Joo Dee asks, not bothering to hide her distaste. Twice, she's grabbed my arm because a rodent scurried across the floor, startling her. I'm pleased to see her returning to normal, though. Regulations and rules and order will do that with her.

"The Store is located on the ground level, and the arena is underground. Tributes will stay in the underground cells."

"What is the Store?" I ask Joo Dee quietly, but she's too focused on something else.

"And where are _we_ staying, exactly?"

"Guard chambers, level one." We pass two teams and the Elites finally come to a stop outside a door secured by a Guard. "Your rooms."

The door creaks open and I peek inside. Two single beds. One small wardrobe. A barred window and a cracked mirror hanging on one of the walls. Cold, plain, but clean.

Joo Dee peers inside hesitantly and, almost instantly, her face shifts into rage, horror, and disgust all at once. I'm impressed when she faces the Elites with a huge, fake smile on her face. "It is…quaint," she says with some effort.

I get a little satisfaction to see her struggle with manners. "Are all mentors and escorts on this floor?" I ask, even though I don't need to. I can hear the rest of them coming up the corridor now.

They don't seem like I need an answer, either. Even though their hoods are up, I can tell the only one who has talked is a Firebender. His eyes seem to glow under the darkness of the hood. And, I notice, while he's shorter than the other two and sounds like he's around Pakku's age, he's clearly the leader of the three.

He hands me two scrolls. "Your map, schedule, and guidelines as mentor. You will meet with sponsors tomorrow at midday and be escorted to the galley for dinner this evening. Good night."

The Elites turn to leave, their long robes whipping across the floor.

"What are your names?" The question topples out before I can stop it. They pause, two hoods glancing at the Firebender in the middle. No response. "If we are a team, I just wanted to know your names," I rush on.

"Worry less about our names," says the Firebender, without looking at me, "and more about your tributes. Blowing up wine will not help their ranks here."

I cringe as they disappear, feeling as though I've been slapped across the cheek. He is right, as much as it annoys me to admit it, and I was right, guessing they recalled my last encounter. So I go inside the room and take a seat on one of the beds. As expected, it's hard and uncomfortable. Joo Dee hovers by the doorway so I wave her over with a scroll. "We need to read these. I have no idea what to do and I think we should know our schedule, don't you?"

The word _schedule_ does the trick. She's by my side in an instant, unrolling a scroll.

"You have been…an honor to…As a mentor," she begins reading, "you will be responsible for purchasing all weapons, protection wear, and healing tokens from the Store for your tributes. All items are ranked by gold, silver or copper quality. Nicer items will require gold in payment, while lesser items will require copper pieces." She starts to mumble, reading over it quickly, so I lean over to read over her shoulder.

Several words jump out at me. "Armor? Weapons? What about water? And I thought sponsors pick out the gifts?"

"Hm. Not this time. They give you money and you use it however you seem fit in the Store."

Managing money is something I know how to do, considering I've done it my entire life and have had very little. I just hope they have barrels of water up for sale. "So this Store is like a market," I say, sitting back on my hands and letting everything mull over. "What are the healing tokens?"

Joo Dee gives a haughty laugh. "Oh, Pakku and Hama will love this: Tributes cannot receive medical attention from a Waterbender without a gold healing token. That, of course, you will need a sponsor to give you money to purchase."

"Too bad they can heal themselves," I say with a grin. "At least we don't have to waste money on those."

"Yes, they are quite expensive. Medicine always is. I expect most tributes will be lucky to scrap a silver healing token."

"What's that?"

"Salve and minor healing medicine treatment."

Good for burns, but a Waterbender healer is the best way to go, obviously. "How long between each Agni Kai?"

"It says tributes will have a week to heal, recuperate and train for their next event."

Well, that is a minor improvement, kind of. It's good that you have time to heal, but that means everyone else does, too. I suppose the Capital is more interested in seeing a duel between two healthy, strong fighters instead of weak tributes who can barely hold up their arms.

I do the mental math in my head, taking into account the number of tributes, the opening tournament and the Agni Kai's. To win the Duels, a tribute has to survive three or four Agni Kai's after the opening tournament, and kill the other tribute in the final one. I barely managed to survive one Agni Kai. I can't imagine up to four.

"What do the Elites do?" I ask, deciding I can focus on the logistics later. "The three that are assigned to us?"

"The Elites are the bridge between the mentor and the tributes," she says, without looking at me. "They will transfer the sponsor gifts to the tributes on the mentor's order. Like the Black Games."

"I wondered how that works," I mutter.

"Oh, it's quite the system. I don't know if you'll be in a control room or where you'll be watching, but for the Elites assigned to each province, it is their job to make sure the gifts go in the moment the mentor says so."

"That sounds like a lot of pressure."

"It is. That is why you should be so grateful of who you had. Pakku and Hama made sure the Elites got you everything you needed the moment they wanted you to."

My heart swells with affection and, if I dig deeper, guilt. Guilt for every negative thing I've said or thought about Pakku.

Now it's my turn to return him the favor.

Joo Dee unrolls the scroll filled with our schedule. Her eyes rake it over hungrily, as though she's attempting to memorize it. I don't bother looking at it.

"Zhao said the opening tournament was based on the Games of Old," I say. "What were they, exactly?"

Several beats of silence pass and I fear Joo Dee is too focused on the schedule, but after some time she finally says, "The Black Games were created by Fire Lord Azulon, but duelling and fighting has been around for a long time, especially in the Fire provinces. The Games of Old were considered entertainment and a sport, a chance for those imprisoned to regain their freedom. Very popular, you can imagine. The prisoners fought against monsters and men, until only two were left. The final two would fight in an Agni Kai for their freedom. The winner was freed for life." She pauses and looks up. "At least that is the legend."

So the concept behind the Black Games derived from the Games of Old, an ancient sport and tradition. "Why did they stop? The Games of Old," I clarify. "Why did they stop them?"

"I suppose there was no need for it," Joo Dee says after a short pause. "They have the Black Games now."

At first I think she is right, but then something General Iroh said to me flashes across my mind.

_"My brother, like my father before me, believes the way to control the world is with a little hope and unquestionable fear."_

If Joo Dee is right, the Games of Old only gave hope to those who had nothing to lose. There is no fear in that, when you have nothing worth anything, and only something to gain. But the Black Games does not select prisoners. We are the innocent.

We have little hope and everything to lose. That is what makes everyone so afraid. And while the Fire Lord controls our hopes and fears, we will always remain that way. Unless the world can find a hope so strong they can face their fears with their heads held high.

Joo Dee shakes me. "Did you hear me? Honestly, you must learn to pay closer attention."

I blink at her. "Sorry, what did you say?"

"I asked if you had a plan."

"I— "And I see his face, clear as day, as if he's standing before me. "Yes." And for once, finally, I think I do.

A long pause. "Well, what is it?" she says impatiently.

"I need to speak with Pakku and Hama. And then I need to speak to General Iroh."

* * *

**A/N:** In case it wasn't clear, the Games of Old were inspired by the movie Gladiator. :P Love that movie. Hope you liked the chapter! As we reached 1,100 reviews (which is amazing, guys!) you can ask one character one question. One. Key word. lol Also, if it's too spoilery, I won't answer it for obvious reasons. :P Also, I won't answer a question that is going to be addressed. I'm sure everyone wants to know why Zuko and Bowen volunteered. That will be answered, no worries. :D

Review responses:

**MHZutaraFanGirl: "It will be quite refreshing to have Katara as the mentor and Hama as the student this time, and will make for interesting** plot-turns." - Yeah I wasn't a huge fan of Katniss going into the games again in CF. I wanted to explore things with Katara from a mentors side. :D And it works better with the plot I have in mind.

**Britchiche: "Does Zuko know that his dad whipped Katara?"** - No, he does not. :P

**"Is katara gonna scar?"** - Yes, she will! The right moment hasn't come up yet.

**underthemoon: "is this a trilogy?"** - Yep! I just haven't revealed the third title yet. :P

**Cupuffle: "Absolutely love both of them! I think your portrayal of the ATLA characters in the HG universe is actually quite the genius!"** - Thank you so much! It's been a blast to write. I only wish I could have spent more time with all the characters. Sadly when you have 24 who have to kill eachother, it doesn't leave a lot of time for bonding, haha.

**Elizabeth Blossom: "You've gotten me back in the A:TLA fandom again and I'm actually writing a Zutara sort of, kind of, maybe inspired by your story."** - That is wonderful to hear! It's really one of the highest compliments to hear something you wrote inspiredsomeone to write. So thank you for that. And good luck with your story! :D

**"The Infernal Devices is the only one I can think of that is actually good, that makes me actually torn between the two men. (Have you read that series**?)" - I have! I love it to pieces! But I have to admit I'm not a huge fan of that love triangle and don't find it very balanced. To me the scales tip heavily in Will's favor. :P Not that I should complain because I do ship Will and Tessa, haha. But message me if you want more thoughts on it..I could type a novel! haha

**lilly: "About the love triangle thingy... I would never thought I'm going to say this... you could totally go for it!"** - Haha everyone is suspicious of this potential love triangle. I'm just going to sit here and let you all squirm with curiosity. :P

**SparksxFly: "About the love triangle thingy... I would never thought I'm going to say this... you could totally go for it**!" - I'm glad you think so! That was sort of my goal with her development. Given how she grew up and the world she's in, she's not as naive or hopeful in the beginning as she was in canon. But overtime and the course of the story, I'm hoping she'll develop more into the girl we saw in canon. Not as naive, but more of a leader and more hopeful and likely to stand up to people.

**"Just curious, if someone volunteers, can the original person object, or is the choice permanent once the new volunteer steps forward?"** - Nope, once someone volunteers there is no protesting.

**IlostTime: "And you did say you'd use some of LOK right ? ... right?"** - One in particular has a role in the third story, not so much in this one. ;)

**roflZuko: "From the way Katara's thoughts go, it sounds like the victor parents are going to serve as mentors for their selected offspring"** - The parents don't have to mentor their child. Katara just said they most likely WOULD mentor them. Hope that makes sense! :)


	19. The Order of the White Lotus

**A/N:** Thank you for your patience. School as been rough lately. I want to point out that this story was originally going to be about 20 chapters; now it's looking to be 30 at least, lmao. I suck at timing apparently. Happy Thanksgiving and enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter 19 - The Order of the White Lotus**

For the next three days, I try to speak with General Iroh, only to come out unsuccessful. Not because I never see him, because I do, but because I never seem to have _time _to talk. When I'm not familiarizing myself with the items available at the Store or meeting with my team or consulting with our Elites, I'm talking with sponsors, promoting Pakku and Hama. While the tributes train during the day, that means we only have time to talk strategy when they finish before dinner. As the mentors and escorts are all sleeping on the same floor, you would think I could manage to get Iroh alone at some point, but I can never find him by then, and the Guards don't exactly let us wander around.

It isn't until the sixth day do I finally find him in his cell. I walk past briskly, knowing I have to tell Joo Dee before I go. I tell her to wait here in our cell, which takes some convincing on my part. She doesn't the idea of me going anywhere alone—and I suspect she doesn't want to stay in the cell alone—even though I point out that there are about a dozen Guards patrolling the corridors. I also point out how important our schedule is, especially since we have the training session soon. She finally relents.

I walk down the surprisingly long corridor with purpose, but my pace slows just before reaching the General's cell. I wish a Guard would stop me, but I guess they don't see me as a threat. Most of the mentors and escorts are lingering in the corridor, talking with a sense of dread in the air. No one wants to see their friends killed.

"Katara, won't you come in?"

The voice startles me. I didn't realize I was lingering outside the door. I peer inside hesitantly. The General's cell is as plain as mine, only he has a small tea table and four chairs. He is sitting in one of them; a thin, older man with a long split mustache sits opposite him. Both are looking intently at the board and tiles spread out on the table. I think it might be a game. Something about the tiles are familiar, but I can't put my finger on it.

"I can come back later," I say, even though I want to talk to him now.

"Oh no, please join us." Iroh looks up and smiles. "Katara, this is Fung, the escort for Province One and a dear friend." The man named Fung greets me with a gentle smile of his own. Even without knowing he's the escort I can tell by his robes he's someone of high rank.

"Do you play?" Fung asks, gesturing to the board.

I take a seat at the table. "I'm afraid I don't even know this game."

"More than a game," says Fung quietly. He lifts a hand and slides a tile diagonally. The circular board seems to be separated by colored squares and the tiles have different pictures painted on them. "Your move, General."

"Hm." Iroh looks at the board thoughtfully, and then makes his move. Fung hesitates a moment before sliding another tile. I sit quietly as the two men play, trying to figure out a pattern to the game. I don't find one.

But I do find something else.

Forgetting the fact that they are in the middle of a game, I reach out and pick up the tile in the center of the board. Now I know why the tiles look so familiar. I have held this exact same tile before. And now I know the symbol on it.

"Do you favor that tile?" Fung asks curiously.

"It's a white lotus," I say, turning it over in my fingers.

"You know the symbol? Not many cling to the ancient ways."

I have no idea what he means, or what the General meant by giving it to me. Coincidence? Sokka would say not.

Turning to Iroh, I suppress the urge to narrow my eyes. "This looks very familiar."

"Why don't we start with why you are here," he says, a slight twinkle in his eye.

"Or we can start with the fact that you gave me a white lotus tile when the symbol is forbidden because it represents the Order and the Avatar."

Almost immediately, I regret my words. Not because they aren't true, but because I have no idea who Fung is loyal to and I may have just said something that will get Iroh in trouble.

But his eyes are warm and he appears to be fighting a smile. Fung is looking at me even more curiously now, stroking his thin mustache. Iroh's expression turns expectant. I sigh, remembering his question.

"I'm here for him." I look away and stare at the cold stone walls. "I know he's saved my life more times than I can count."

"Katara," Iroh cuts in quickly, "you have more than made up for anything that happened in the arena. What you did, what you risked, you—"

"This isn't about that." I glance back at him, my fingers tightening around the tile. "This isn't about debt any more. It's not about how many times I can save him or how many times he can save me. This is about the greater good for everyone. I believe in Zuko like the White Lotus believed in the Avatar. He needs to live. He _has_ to live. Not for me, or for you, but for the Fire Nation. I'm willing to do whatever it takes to make sure of that."

Iroh and Fung share a look, and then the General smiles at me. He slides the white lotus tile across the board to me. "I believe it is time to welcome you, Katara," he says.

I pick up the tile, running my thumb over the smooth surface. My mind immediately starts reeling with questions, but the General holds up a hand. "It is too loud, don't you think? I can hardly concentrate on the game."

"The walls tend to whisper," says Fung.

Ah. Of course. I've probably said too much as it is. "Then I'll leave you be," I say. "And maybe we can talk when it's not so…loud."

"That would be best," says Iroh.

I slide the tile in my pocket and leave the General's cell, feeling more anxious and more hopeful than I have in a very long time.

The next morning after breakfast, Iroh asks me to walk with him to the Store. Inside the Guards are more focused on making sure none of the items are stolen than words exchanged between mentors. It's about the only time we can really talk, since meals are in the cafeteria with the tributes, too. But today will be the first day mentors and sponsors will be able to observe the tributes practicing.

"I just want to check on some things at the Store and then I'll meet you at the training center," I say to Joo Dee.

"It is critical that you are present," she says urgently. "Sponsors will be choosing soon. Many already have."

"I know. I'll be quick, I promise."

I leave the cafeteria before she can protest. She won't follow, knowing one of us should go to the training center. I'm a little nervous to be observing today, even more uncomfortable when I have to talk to sponsors. While many have been interested in talking to _me_, not many are interested in sponsoring Pakku and Hama. Not when they have young tributes like Zuko and Bowen out there. So far we have one. Sen, the same woman who sponsored me.

"I expect you have some questions," says Iroh.

"Is it just the two of you?" I ask, pretending to examine the various qualities of armor.

"Oh no, there are many others. Some that might surprise you."

Surprise is an understatement. When he tells me who is part of this secret Order, the first thing I feel is utter betrayal. Pakku. Hama. Lu Ten. And of all people, Bowen. How could none of them tell me about this? There are other members too, ones that I find even more unlikely. Piandao from Five. A man named Jeong Jeong who I vaguely remember seeing on tour. I think he's from Two. An Earthbender from Eight. Iroh says he was Toph's mentor, so I'm eager to meet him. But the most surprising is Sage.

"She's so young. How did she become involved?" I ask.

"The Order is a secret that is passed down through family. Her mother was a member," says Iroh.

I wonder how he got involved then, because I know Azulon was not a member. "And Bowen? That's why you and Lu Ten were so sure he would help save Zuko."

"Something like that," says Iroh vaguely.

I know nothing about his parents, but one or both must have been a member. How come I didn't ask him more about his family? I did once, but he diverted the question, just like he always does with anything personal.

The Store is set up like a market, with tents and stands stationed around the chamber. I think this used to be a gas chamber and my imagination keeps painting horrifying images on what used to happen in here. The tents are colorful, maybe for a distraction, but it can't distract me from the coldness and general unease of the chamber.

The merchants providing the items watch us with hungry eyes, but the Elites have forbidden them to badger us. They can only speak if spoken to. There are three at the protection wear tent, but Iroh orders them to give us space. I think they are too afraid of him to do anything other than pretend not to see us.

I risk a glance around, but the mentors seem more preoccupied with the weapons. So are the Guards. "Let me get this straight," I say quietly. "The Order's purpose is to the find the Avatar and train them?"

"That is the basis of it, yes."

"Then what do you do now? There's no Avatar anymore."

"There may not be an Avatar, but we believe in what the Avatar stood for." At my questioning look he adds, "Balance. Our world has fallen out of balance, just as the Avatar cycle has broken. But we believe that if our world can become reunited, then perhaps the cycle can be restored as well."

I'm not sure if I believe that or not. I want to, but Roku died in the Avatar State. The cycle broke. He's been gone for a hundred years and there's been no sign of a new Avatar. But even then, what does it really matter? So the Avatar can bend all four elements. That can't be the only reason Fire Lord Sozin killed him. He destroyed Roku because of what he represents.

"It was never about Roku's power, was it?" I say finally.

"No. My grandfather had power. He had armies. But he knew he could never rule the world while people had too much hope. The Avatar's purpose was to keep the world in balance. My grandfather did not want that."

"But you know…anyone can be the Avatar," I say quietly. "It's not about the four elements or the power. It's about believing in someone who can restore balance to the world." I pause. "Someone like Zuko"

"Someone like Zuko."

We move on to the healing tokens, seeing what the different types will buy. As I read earlier, Waterbending healing is the most expensive. Zuko will need a sponsor for these, but at least Pakku and Hama won't.

"Does he know about the Order?"

"No, and I do not believe he is ready to find out."

I nod.

"Do you think he sees himself that way? I mean, do you think he sees himself the way...the way you and I do?" I pick up a silver healing token, flipping it over. It's carved of solid silver with a healing rune etched into it. Square shaped, fitting into my palm, like the tickets I saw in Five. Only those aren't made of silver and I doubt they are this heavy.

Iroh sighs and strokes his grey beard. Finally he says, "I do not know if he _wants_ to see himself that way."

That's concerning, even if I suspected as much. "What do you mean?"

"I do not expect you to understand, but Zuko wants more than anything to feel loved by his father. Standing against him will be the hardest thing my nephew will ever do. I believe his heart knows he must, but history has not been kind."

I feel like there's more to his words than he's saying, but I'm too frustrated suddenly to care.

"But you're the Fire Lord's _brother_," I say meaningfully. "And you're older. Shouldn't you be Fire Lord? And why don't you just defeat him yourself? You can change everything."

Iroh shakes his head. "Even if I did defeat him, and I don't know if I could, it would be wrong. Our family history would remain nothing but senseless violence. Power over blood. I believe the only way for this to end peacefully is for Zuko to restore balance to the world." His smile is warm and comforting. He touches my arm gently. "And I believe he will not do it alone."

I let out a nervous, uncharacteristic squeak. "Me? I'm just a girl from Province Nine. I'm in no position to change things."

"You already have. More than you know."

* * *

The training center is packed by the time I reach it. Mentors and sponsors are gathered on a landing that overlooks the training center. Down below, the room is set up with various stations, everything from rope tying to archery to swordsmanship. I'm hit with such déjà vu that it stuns me momentarily and I just watch the boy from Twelve wander around the room, looking lost and helpless. I remember being in his shoes. There is a little girl too, younger than me, looking just as lost.

I look at the rope station, remembering Aang struggle with a simple knot. My hand gently brushes the bison whistle. I made it into a necklace, but I've been wearing it around my belt, as a reminder of what he meant to me as my first friend and ally in the Games.

My eyes find Zuko before I realize I'm looking for him. He's in a stance I've seen all too many times, with his arms crossed over his chest as he watches Chit Sang Firebend. He must somehow feel me watching, however unlikely, because his gaze lifts to mine briefly before looking away.

My chest aches at the distance between us. It's not just physical. He's distancing himself from me in every way he can. It feels so wrong for me to be up here, watching him train for his life. I should be down there, by his side. I don't like doing the fighting in secret, so far away from him.

"Maybe you should concentrate more on your tributes and less on the boy from Province One," says a voice in my ear. I turn and find Sen, clutching a gold goblet and giving me a pointed look over thick rimmed glasses.

"He is my tribute too," I say before I can stop myself. Sen raises a brow.

"Of course he is," she says. She tips her glass at me and saunters off.

Irritated, I straighten my blue robes before searching out Iroh. He's talking to about a half dozen sponsors. Zuko isn't going to have any problems there. I just have to figure out another way to get him out alive, since Iroh has the sponsors taken care of.

Pakku and Hama need to be my priority right now though. So I plaster on a smile before emerging myself into the sponsor crowd. Most are dressed in ridiculous and elaborate robes that would have June's skin crawling. I haven't even seen her, not once since I've been here. I know she's working on Pakku and Hama now, but I miss her, even if I get annoyed with people dressing me. At least she sent me a suitcase.

"The girl everyone is talking about," says a woman, coming up to me with her hand held out and a sparkling red gem shining in my face. I think she wants me to kiss it, but that's not going to happen anytime soon. She is so old I'm surprised she can walk on her own. Her skin is papery thin, and her grey hair is piled on top of her head. "I am most delighted to meet you at last. My name is Malina, though I am sure you have heard of me."

Oh, boy.

"A pleasure," I say, forcing myself into the customary Fire Nation bow. Her hand drops, her lip curling in minor disappointment, but she doesn't lose the smile all together.

"How could they not know the boy was dead? A good solid kick should have done it," she says so casually that I wince. "Such a mistake should never be made."

I give my best noncommittal sort of shrug. "Everyone makes mistakes."

"Not the Elites." Her tone startles me, and the way her eyes zero in on my face makes me suddenly uncomfortable. "I hear an awful lot, you know, even with my ears. Rumors left and right."

"Rumors are a nasty business." I look away, praying someone, anyone, will save me from this woman.

"Until they are proven true. The rumors circulating the final events of the Games are most horrifying. Your name has popped up a time or two."

Her eagerness gives her motives away. She's practically coming undone at the prospect of me knowing something she doesn't. Probably one of those old women who do nothing but gossip. Well, I'm going to disappoint her. She must be from Province Two, since they were told the Elites pronounced Zuko dead when he wasn't. I won't be telling this woman the truth any time soon.

"I'm not here to talk about the past," I say calmly. "I'm here to talk about my tributes."

She waves her hand, huffing in disappointment. "Oh, fine. Do tell me about your tributes. They are quite old, aren't they?"

_Not as old as you, you rotten hag._

"Well, age is just a number, Malina," I say with patience. "Both Pakku and Hama are Masters of Waterbending."

"Hm. Yes." She purses her withered lips and strokes the fur around her collar. Her eyes travel down and rest on Pakku and Hama, both of which are speaking with the Airbender tributes. "They are not the only Masters though."

"That is true, but they have a lot of experience. If you sponsor one or both, all you really need to provide for is water and possibly armor. My tributes have no interest in blunt weapons."

To my surprise, she looks disappointed. "Well, I will consider it." She turns around and scoots off before I can say goodbye, but all I want to say is _good riddance_ anyway. What a horrid woman.

Joo Dee scurries up to my side, seeming to come from nowhere. "Why did you let her get away?" she asks angrily.

"Because I was about to hit her," I say, scowling. "I don't like her at all."

"This isn't about who _you_ like!" she shrieks. "It's about who will sponsor Pakku and Hama! So far we only have one sponsor, Katara. One!"

"What do you want me to do?" I hiss at her. "All these people care about is how I saved Zuko. That's all they want to talk about when they meet me. They could care less about Hama or Pakku."

"Try harder," she urges. Then she grabs my arm and points into the crowd. "There he is," she says, sounding dreamy despite herself. "He is alone for the first time all morning. Kai has a lot of money, Katara. If we have him and Sen, that is all we need."

"If he's such a great catch, why don't you go talk to him?" I ask.

"I _have_. He will be far more interested in you." She shakes her head, as though that idea is foreign to her. "You are both young."

I stare at her.

"Smile. Be friendly. Use your womanly charms," she prompts, waving a hand up and down my body.

_Womanly charms?_

"Um, I'm afraid I'm fresh out of those." I try to pull away but she jerks me back. I scowl at her. "What?"

"Go. Talk to him before I drag you over there myself. At least _try_, Katara," she says desperately. "Do it for Hama and Pakku."

"Fine!" I rip my arm away from her and march into the crowd. As I get closer to Kai, my legs slow. I'm not an idiot. I know Joo Dee wants me to flirt with him. But how can I do that when I've never consciously flirted with anyone before? Not to mention how wrong it feels. And how much older he looks than me. He's not young at all! I don't know what Joo Dee is thinking calling him young. He's got to be at least thirty.

I can't do this. It's wrong on every level.

I get about halfway there and he looks directly at me with flat, steely grey eyes. I raise a hand and wave, which feels stupid the moment I do it. Because I can't bear to see his response, I turn around, marching right back to Joo Dee.

"I'm not doing it," I say finally, shaking my head furiously. "We'll have to find someone else. I'll just make a fool of myself and he is _old_, Joo Dee. Too old for me to even attempt at...at _that_."

She makes an exasperated sound. "Oh, you are being so difficult!"

"What, are you angry he didn't fall for _your_ womanly charms?"

She gasps and clutches her chest in utter appall. "How dare...of course not! And I was not—"

"Hey Kat!" a voice shouts. I decide I'm probably hallucinating from all the stress.

"Kat, come here a second!" I hear again.

Oh, for goodness sake. I know I'm not imagining the voice because Joo Dee gives me an annoyed look. I roll my eyes at her and move to the railing. My fingers wrap around the cold metal.

"What?" I half whisper.

Bowen is standing below me, hands on his hips. About five daggers hang from the loops on his belt. He really looks like an assassin, dressed in all black and all those daggers. "Come down here. I want you to meet some people."

I stare at him, mortified now that some of the nearby sponsors are taking interest. "I can't come down there," I say, in that same whispered voice. I shoot a look around the crowd, but thankfully no Elites have spotted me. I'm pretty sure we were told to _observe_ only. That means no chit chatting. "And you need to stop talking to me. Go practice or something."

He gives me a lazy grin and moves so quickly I don't see it coming. The railing bends around my wrist, locking me in place I try to yank free, but it's too tight. "What makes you think I need practice?" Bowen taunts.

To my horror, the sponsors start clapping, like this is the most entertainment they've seen in years. I expect an Elite to come swooping in any moment. I'd welcome them right now, just to see Bowen get yelled at. But none do. They are probably laughing and cheering with the sponsors.

"Let me out of this thing!" I snarl at Bowen, when no one comes to my aid.

"Sure thing, Princess." Bowen moves his arms and the metal snaps off my wrists. It doesn't hurt or leave a mark, but my pride is stung. He has the nerve to wink at me. Then throws his arm around one of the female tributes and saunters off.

Wishing I could burn with my eyes, I follow him until he passes the prince. But all I can see is Zuko's back. His arms are still crossed and it's hard to tell what he's looking at, either the swordsmanship station or the archy. But even from here, he looks too still to be human.

* * *

The next day during lunch, I decide to let the ball drop about the Order. The Duels are only a week away and they need to know where I stand. That I'm trying to save more than one life in this game.

"I know about the Order," I say with a deep breath. "Iroh told me everything. He gave me a tile and welcomed me."

Pakku and Hama are expectantly silent. Joo Dee, who I trust but not entirely with something like this, is already off to talk with our Elites. They seem to hate me, so I'm leaving her in charge of communicating with them for now.

"You are a child," Pakku says finally.

"I'm old enough to fight in the Black Games."

"You are speaking of things you have no idea about—"

"I know enough," I whisper heatedly. "I know you've kept this from me and even though it really makes me angry, I understand. You were sworn to secrecy or whatever. But I am part of it now. I believe in everything the Order does."

"I know you do," says Pakku. "But I do not want to see you killed because of it."

Taken completely by surprise, I just sit here in silence. The chatter around the cafeteria barely reaches my ears.

"Your palace awaits, Princess," someone calls from behind, a hint of superior mocking to his voice. I turn to see Bowen in a low bow, an arm behind his back and the other across his stomach. With all this Order talk, all I can think about suddenly is how annoyed I am that he is part of it. Even more annoyed from his little stunt yesterday.

He straightens up and grins at me with a stunning smile, his eyes bright with amusement. "Shall I escort you to…wherever it is you are going?"

"You should escort yourself to your team, boy," says Pakku icily.

Bowen's grin doesn't falter in the slightest as he takes a seat at our table. He throws an arm around my shoulders and squeezes, like this is a normal thing between the two of us. "Worried, old man?"

"Only in ways you are apparently not wise enough to realize, you foolish boy."

Bowen is suddenly serious, tense at my side, like Pakku's words have some deeper meaning I don't understand. "I know what I'm doing," he says at last, all humor gone.

His tone, the sense of familiarity in their heated gazes, it reminds me of the time I overheard them arguing after my attack. Like there was more going on than I realized. It struck me as odd then, but now I see why. They know each other from the Order.

Pakku makes grunts and takes a bite of his crab puff.

"Your mentor doesn't approve of my lifestyle," says Bowen, leaning into me and tipping his chin at Pakku.

"And what lifestyle is that?" I ask loftily. "A member of the White Lotus?" Bowen's arm tenses around me and I get a slight pleasure in catching him off guard. "Oh, trust me I know everything."

"Not everything," he says quietly. His green eyes are bright and serious. He looks so familiar suddenly, but I can't figure out why. "You're too innocent to know everything, Kat."

"I'm not as innocent as you think. I have blood on my hands too."

He rubs his knuckles along his jaw, watching me. His lips twitch into a sad smile.

For the first time, I wonder just how much blood he has on his own hands, of the secrets that he protects with his life.

A Guard is suddenly at our side. "Zhao would like to see you, sir."

_Sir?_ I almost fall out of my chair.

Bowen nods once. "Where is he?"

"In the training center, sir."

"Of course. Thank you," he says, rising from his seat. He tips his chin at me, a grin playing at his lips, and then he follows the Guard out of the cafeteria.

I stare after him, my mouth gaping open. "What was that about? Since when do Guards call Victors _sir_?" I wonder out loud.

"I'd say since he started training the Elites and Earthbending Guards how to Metalbend," says Pakku dryly.

"_What?_" I breathe, my heart stopping in my chest. "But he…he can't be. He's a member like you…he would never them."

But as much as I tell myself this, the pieces of the puzzle slowly start coming together. Now I understand why Bowen said Ozai can't do anything to him. The Fire Lord doesn't have anyone who can bend the way he does.

"He is a member, but he serves the Capital too," says Hama. "His allegiance was never fully clear. Not until he volunteered for the Duels." She smiles softly at my confused stare, but it looks a little sad. "He followed the orders from the Grand Master of the Order."

Who is the Grand Master? What is that, like the leader of the White Lotus or something?

"What orders?" I ask.

"To protect the prince."

* * *

**A/N:** Thank you for reading! I know I'm late on review responses. Be sure to check back on chapter 18 in a day or two. :D Next chapter will have the full list of tributes. ;) Oh and before I forget, the next character Q/A will be at 1,400 reviews. (whoa!)

Character Q/A. Notethat I didn't answer ones that would be answered soon or contained spoilers. ;)

**For Katara**

"How does it feel knowing that Pakku's and Hama's lives depend partially on what you send?" - It makes me very nervious and a little afraid..

"are you worried that the Elites may not send your gifts to Hama and Pakku?" - No, they may not like me but they value their job.

"How does it feel like being the mentor now?" - I wish I could say it's a relief, but it's not.

"What are your nightmares like?" - Sometimes they are from the Games. Mostly sounds, like screaming. There's always fire.

**For Pakku**

"Do you have ANY faith that Katara will be a decent mentor, whatsoever?" - Of course

"I know you don't like Katara, but does she have any traits that you admire and/or like?" - Just because I am hard on Katara does not mean I do not like her. I admire her strength, her will to never give up, and her courage most of all.

**For Ozai**

"what did you think when your brother Iroh was reaped, then your son and only living child Zuko volunteered?" - They are both fools.

"Are you hoping Zuko and Katara die in the games?" - Hope...only the weak believe in hope.

**For Iroh**

"what were you thinking as you watched your nephew step to take your place?" - I was feeling, not thinking.

"How do you feel about Zuko and Katara's relationship?" - It brings me both joy and sadness.

**For Bowen**

"Why do you like teasing Katara" - Because it's fun, maybe?

**For Zuko**

"how do you think Katara sees you and what makes you think that?" - That's a question I think only she can really answer.

"What was going through your head, as you watched Katara walk up to the stage when she was selected?" - I wanted to stop her.

"How did you feel when Katara broke the necklace and shoved it back at you?" - Like I deserved it.

"if the world was different and you able to persure your heart, would you conisder Katara as a worthy wife" - The world is how it is and pretending it isn't will only lead to failure and disappointment.

"Were you nervous when you stepped upon the platform or stage?" - Not really.

**For Joo Dee**

"Do you believe she'll be able to do her job?" - I believe so, yes.

**Review Responses:**

**x Midnight Rose: "Please tell me this is going to be finished."** - Oh yes! Updates have just been slower because I'm at the end of my semester with a thousand assignments, projects and tests. :P

**lucca: "Do tell how often you update cause all the waiting is killing me!"** - I try to update once every week or two. Lately it's been a bit longer because of school and work.

**MickieHardyGirl: "I just wanted to say that I started reading your stories not that long ago and I feel like I'm watching a movie."** - Wow thank you! I try to write in visual way, so I'm glad to hear it!

**Guest: "ok i know it may seem icky but can we expect any smut in the upcoming chapters/sequel?"-** Lol I guess it depends on what you call smut.

**akl: "i realise you stopped the quotes/lyrics a while ago and i loved that, so please start that again :)"** - I kinda stopped because as soon as I finish, I want to post the chapter, and hunting for lyrics always delayed me posting. :P

**Princess of Your Doom 95: "Firstly, I just want to say how much I love the direction you are taking with this story"** - Thank you! I really wanted to tell it from the mentor's perspective, since we already got to see the "games" side of things once.

**Britchiche: "How old is Joo Dee?"** - I never really thought about it...probably early to mid thirties.

**jeffhardyfan92: "Love the chapter! I don't remember if this was addressed before or not, but what Games did Hama and Iroh compete in?"** - Hama won the 5th and Iroh won the 40th, I believe.

**Guest: "please make a twitter account!:D"** - Haha! I have one but I never use it. I prefer Tumblr. You can follow me there if you like! The link is on my profile page.

**ShipperBody: "Tell me, you plot the entire fic 7/24, obsessed kind of author, or you it just comes to you when, exemple, you're brushing your teeth or attending at college classes?"** - Lol! Well, I have an outline that I jot down plotlines, but each chapter is written fresh. Like I write a chapter, then post it. No advanced writing chapters. But sometimes I think of a scene I want to include, write it, and save it for later. :D


	20. The Tournament

**A/N:** Another long wait for a new chapter. Sorry about that. At least I'm on Christmas break now, right? :D Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter 20 - The Tournament**

I don't get to talk to Bowen about where he stands or the orders from the Grand Master of the White Lotus. I barely get to talk to anyone who isn't a sponsor at all. Joo Dee and I spend all our time trying to convince them of why they should choose our team during the tribute's training hours. Sen even helps, but I find out very quickly that most of sponsors do not think highly of her. She claims they are jealous of her money, but I wonder if there's more to it than that.

Today is the last day of group training. Tomorrow, the tributes will be scored by the Elites and placed into the tournament bracket. After the scores are read, the sponsors must make their final decision on who they wish to sponsor. Which means Pakku and Hama will be out of luck if I don't find any more sponsors.

"Who have we not asked?" Joo Dee says to me quietly, scanning the crowd of sponsors. The tributes continue to train down below, most of them showing off for the sponsors.

"The Fire Lord," I say. "Think he'll sponsor us?"

"That isn't funny," she scolds. "We only have until tomorrow."

"I know."

I sigh. Now that there are no secrets between us, I found out last night that Pakku and Hama plan on carrying out the Grand Master's orders too—protecting Zuko and securing his throne. They see no real need for sponsors, but I will not throw away their lives. There has to be a way for all of them to live.

"And you do not believe the prince will sponsor us?" Joo Dee asks.

My eyes find Lu Ten amongst the sea of faces. He's standing with Iroh, their heads pressed together as they whisper quietly. "No. I know sponsors can sponsor up to two tributes, but I don't think he'll sponsor anyone who is Zuko's opponent."

"Well, with that kind of thinking we are getting nowhere!" She makes an irritated sound and then vanishes into the crowd, waving her hand in frustration.

I know I should chase after her, but instead I find myself drifting toward the railing. My fingers curl around the cool metal. Sometimes I think it might be easier being down there. This mentor stuff is harder than I thought, especially when sponsors are not interested in my tributes.

Quickly I'm sucked into the training down below.

The man from Four puts Longshot to shame when he shoots, shooting two arrows at once and nailing all the targets. The Airbender from Ten is surprising light on her feet as she moves through the obstacle course. And then there's the man from One. I have never seen him move from in front of the door. He just stands there, staring at it, waiting for it to open. When the Guards release the tributes at the end of the day, the man from One is the first to bolt out. I'd say he is afraid to be here, but his stance and the power that radiates in his body says otherwise. He's caused quite a bit of commotion amongst the sponsors. They are calling him the Silence.

"Katara, how is your sponsorship's going?" someone asks, breaking my thoughts apart.

"Terrible. I don't know." I run a hand through my hair in frustration, glancing at the General. "We only have one. She has a lot of money, and I have no idea why she's even sponsoring us, but one can't be enough."

Iroh pauses. "You know, it only takes one to make a difference. Sometimes I have found that one is _exactly_ enough."

"I hope so." I grip the railing tighter as I watch Dock scamper around the training center. He seems to be talking to himself and no one pays him any attention. My heart breaks for him.

Bowen, on the other hand, is receiving a pat on the head by the old woman from his province. I think they must know each other, because Bo wraps an arm around her shoulders and guides her to the knotting station. They sit on the ground, huddling together. After a few minutes, she lifts up her rope and knots it around her throat like a necklace. Bowen shakes his head at her, laughing.

My hand reaches up and grazes my throat, across the scar that feels rough against my fingers. Not for the first time, I think of my mother's necklace. When will I see it again? I almost ask Iroh, and then stop myself. I'm not sure how I can ask without sounding insensitive and stupid.

_Hey Iroh, I know you're busy trying to keep Zuko alive, but if you ever have a chance, mind asking him about my necklace? Thanks._

I'll just have to ask Zuko. The last week before the Duels begin, mentors are allowed in the tribute's corridor as often as they like to plan strategy. I'll just have to suck up my pride and confront him. Part of me—the part buried deep where I keep all my unwanted thoughts—knows I was going to see him before he fights anyway.

"You, girl," a voice calls from behind. I turn to see a hooded man in black robes, his expression hidden within the shadows of his hood.

"Ah, my old friend!" Iroh says happily, clapping a hand on the shadowed man's back. "I am pleased you have joined us."

"Katara, may I introduce you to Master Jeong Jeong," says Iroh.

Jeong Jeong? Is this the same one from the Order? Hama and Pakku say he keeps to himself and hasn't been active within the Order for years.

I hold out my hand, but Jeong Jeong just grunts in response. My smile turns into a frown as I lower my hand. I also notice the stares we receive. I'm used to being stared at, but many of the sponsors are looking at us with disgust. No, they are looking at Jeong Jeong with disgust. How strange.

"I did not know you were sponsoring again," says Iroh, remaining cheerful. If he notices the staring, he does not show it.

"Better than mentoring those weak and insolent children they call _tributes_." Jeong Jeong makes a disgusted sound. "They are fools, all of them."

"Were you a tribute, once?" I ask before I can stop myself. "Are you a victor?"

His gaze slides over to me. The hood keeps his face hidden, but the gold of his eyes shine brightly. "No. I was an Elite."

_Was_? How does one…stop? He sounds younger than Iroh and he certainly doesn't look injured or like he's suffered a permanent injury.

He seems to read my mind because he adds, "That was before I said enough. I left and did not look back."

"You're allowed to do that?" I whisper. "Without consequences?"

Jeong Jeong gives a rough, bitter laugh. "Nothing in this life comes without consequences, girl. But it was worth it."

He walks away then. Sponsors and mentors a like jump out of his way, as though being near him will somehow catch them on fire. Before he gets too far he looks over his shoulder and says, "I will provide armor for Pakku and Hama. Do not expect more."

Joo Dee is conflicted when I tell her what I consider good news.

"Jeong Jeong? But he is a deserter! A disgrace amongst the Capital." She brings her voice low and whispers, "He lives like a _hermit_. Never leaves his home—if you can call it that—to see the light of day."

"Well he saw it today, didn't he? And he said he'd provide Hama and Pakku with armor." I wonder if his ties to them have to do with the Order, if that's why he's offering to sponsor them. "And why is he a deserter? Because he decided to leave the Elites like a normal person would?"

"Yes!" she snaps. "You don't…you don't just leave your obligations to the Capital." She tries to hide it, but I still hear the fear in her voice. "Not without punishment. And he certainly got it."

"What happened?" I ask quietly.

"He spent ten years in prison."

* * *

On the day of the training session, I get to finally see June and my artists. They look terribly out of place in my dank and cold prison cell.

"The ranks will be announced tonight dinner," says Nina, brushing through my tangled hair. She tugs hard, making me wince. "You must look perfect."

"Do they ever get sick of these dinners?" I say through gritted teeth.

"It's more for the sponsors to introduce themselves to their chosen tributes," says June.

"I didn't get to meet any of _my_ sponsors."

"The Games and the Duels have different customs. At least there's no stupid parade."

I laugh. She's made a shimmery blue and silver dress for me. I'm not sure how I feel about the cuts. There is a long train in the back, but the front stops at the top of my thighs. My entire legs are showing, a long piece of fabric flowing down the middle of my legs. The fabric also crisscrosses across my stomach. My arms nearly bear. We better be having this dinner outside, otherwise I'm going to freeze.

Cho steps back from doing my make-up. "You look like an ice princess!"

She holds up a small mirror and I glance into it. She's kind of right, I realize with some surprise. My eyes are shadows of blue and a touch of silver; my lashes inked in white, like snowflakes have caught on them. A tiny crystal shines from each of corner of my eyes.

The scar on my cheek is barely noticeable with all the powder, but it's a reminder of how out of place I am. Even as beautiful as this gown is, even as remarkably as they've done my make-up, it doesn't change anything.

"I don't think there's a place for ice at the Capital," I say, and hand her back the mirror.

In the assembly hall, which has been impressively decorated in shades of gold and crimson, mentors and sponsors await for the tributes. This hall must be used for large gatherings of some sort. Despite being surrounded by stone walls, it's surprisingly warm in here. At the front where a head table would normally be sits a giant screen, like the one in Province Nine. There are no windows, no stage, just small high tables and velvet chairs scattered around the room.

Déjà vu washes over me. How many dinners have I attended since I volunteered as tribute? How much food has gone wasted, that could feed the starving children I saw in Five or the ones back at home? My winnings won't last them forever. All this stupid luxury when the world is burning away. It makes me sick.

A servant walks by with a silver tray and I swoop a glass off. I down the liquid in an instant, even though it burns the back of my throat.

"How vary unladylike of you to drink like a man," says Sen, coming up behind me. She's wearing a dark burgundy gown with fur around the collar, her dark hair piled in a high bun on her head. Jewels gleam on her fingers and neck.

"I can drink however I like," I say, fighting a grimace. What _was_ that drink, anyway?

"Your outfit sure stands out," she says. "You look like one of those dancers at the brothels."

"That's my night job. How did you know?"

She waves a hand at me. "I grow tired of your tongue. Where is the other sponsor you managed to snag?"

"Probably not here." Not that I've bothered to look much. I've tried to remain hidden in the shadows of the hall for the past hour. "I don't think he likes me very much."

"Well, that's because you aren't very likeable," she says factually.

"Now that's just not true," says a voice from behind. "I find her very likeable." Bowen flings an arm around my shoulders. Sen grumbles and mutters something under her breath before drifting away.

"Did you mean that?" I ask, twisting out of his embrace.

His lips twitch into a slow grin. "You don't think you're likeable?"

I shrug. "Sokka was always the people person. I didn't have as many friends as he did. He said I nagged too much and was too bossy."

"He was your brother. He's obligated to say those things."

I laugh, but I feel a crack in my chest at the past tense, the use of the word _was_. Bowen seems to catch himself because his grin fades. "I didn't—" he starts.

"Don't worry about it."

He looks away then and I take a moment to survey his outfit. He's dressed in solid black armor, like some sort of dark knight. The studs in his ears twinkle at me. If he's here, that must mean Pakku and Hama will be shortly, if they aren't already.

"I should probably find Pakku and Hama," I say.

"They won't be here yet." He glances around, wrinkling his nose. "Why are you standing alone in the corner, anyway? Stop being a wall flower. Let's go mingle." He starts to pull me along, but I dig my heels into the ground.

"I don't want to _mingle_," I snap at him. "I'd rather brood in my corner, thank you."

"That can't be good for your health," he says. "Besides, we need to work on your people skills, as you admitted." His fingers dig into my shoulder and my feet give way to his demand.

With his arm still around my shoulders, he steers me into the bulk of the crowd, where most of the mentors, sponsors and some of the tributes who have arrived are, as he puts it, _mingling_. I start to feel myself withdraw as the faces turn to look at me, their eyes widening with surprise. My own eyes search out a familiar face nervously.

Bowen leans down and speaks quietly so only I can hear, "He's not here yet either."

I decide to ignore that. "How can you stand to talk to these people like you're friends when you have to fight each other in two weeks?" I whisper to him heatedly.

"They _are_ my friends, Kat. Well, some of them. I don't think _that guy_ likes me," he says, gesturing toward a giant figure looming in the shadows. Chit Sang. He's surrounded by about five sponsors speaking animatedly to him, but he looks utterly bored and disinterested.

"I don't think he likes anyone," I mutter. A pause. "Can I ask you something?"

"You just did."

I ignore that, my heart hammering nervously. Will he tell me the truth?

"Why did you volunteer?" I ask quietly.

He hesitates. "You have to play all the odds if you want to win, Kat."

"I don't know what you mean by that."

Bowen slides a strong arm around my waist and leans down so his lips brush my ear. My heart thumps annoyingly loud in my ears and suddenly I'm very conscious of all the people around us. "It means I am adaptable," he murmurs.

I don't know why, but I look up and away, glancing around me as though I have done something I shouldn't have. But most of them are hardly paying attention. Only a few, mainly snooty female sponsors, are staring at us.

Bowen doesn't miss my discomfort. He chuckles gently. "They have seen me with many women, Kat. You are hardly an exception. And please try not to look like I've robbed your virginity."

I punch him in the arm and pull myself out of his embrace. "Many women, hah! I'm sure."

"Jealous?" His lips quirk up into a half smile. "It's not an attractive quality for you."

I shake my head and look around at the sea of unfamiliar faces. It's dark and eerie in here, unwelcome but expected for a prison. An Airbender keeps looking over at me, a soft curiosity to his expression. He's older, possibly around Pakku's age, wearing long orange robes and a heavy beaded necklace. He smiles at me when he catches me staring, and then turns away to talk to—Hama and Pakku? When did they get here?

"Who is that?" I ask Bowen, gesturing toward the old man. When I get no response, I turn to see him staring off with such a stony face that I blink several times to make sure I'm not imagining it. I've never seen him look so serious. I try to follow his line of vision, to see who he's staring at, but everyone is too cramped together for me to tell. "Hey, you okay?" I ask, touching his arm.

"Yeah." He blinks and looks back at me. "What were you saying?"

I look back into the crowd, but the Airbender is gone, and so are Hama and Pakku. "Never mind," I say with a sigh.

When Bowen introduces me around, I do my best to be friendly, but it feels fake, even to me. His presence is welcome to everyone it seems, and the mood shifts into something more pleasant. I meet the female tribute from Seven, Lily, and she seems about as dangerous as a baby moose lion. She has to be a daughter of a previous victor or she won on a fluke. The girl who I saw Bowen kiss when we first arrived is named Midori. She's a petite thing, but size is not always an accurate reader. Vachir is a previous victor from Four. No children. He's tall and scarred all over and frightening. He doesn't say a word to me, but Bowen tells me he's the best shooter there is. I believe him. I remember watching him in the training center.

"The Capital wanted him to join the Guards," says Bowen, "but he wouldn't do it."

"Good to know there are still some sensible people in this world, unlike you." Bitterness seeps out of my voice. I lean closer and say in an angry whisper, "When were you going to tell me you train Elites and Guards?"

"My apologies," he says, half playfully and half serious. "I didn't realize our relationship progressed that far."

To my annoyance, I feel my face flush. I look away from him, focusing on the flickering candles along the walls. "Part of me hates you, you know, as irrational as it might be," I say quietly. "For mentoring Jet. But then you helped me save Zuko and for that…I can't hate you. Then I find out you train Elites and Guards, and yet you're also a member of…" I let the sentence drop, not feeling safe enough to use the words out loud. I look back at him and he's watching me, expressionless, the dim gold light sharpening the lines of his face. "I can't figure you out and I can't decide if it's worth the struggle to try."

He glances down, his eyes narrowing in thought. He reaches toward my waist and tugs on the bison whistle I had June integrate into my dress. I also have Zuko's dagger hidden beneath the layers and folds. I hardly go anywhere without it now.

"This is interesting," he says, his thumb stroking the ivory carving. The buzzing around us might as well not exist and he's standing close enough that I can almost feel his breath. After a beat of silence, he asks quietly, "What do you want to know?"

Distracted by the movement of his hand, I hesitate. It's long enough for me to look up and lock gazes with Zuko across the hall. Even though there are two sponsors talking to him, he's utterly still, his hand cupped stiff at the back of his neck. Lips parted slightly, as though he was in conversation and froze, his expression is completely blank.

But then he drops his hand and turns away from me.

"He hides it well," says Bowen, amused. "Better than you do."

"What?" My voice cracks a little and I cough to clear it.

But Bowen doesn't say anything else. Our "dinner" is nothing more than mini bites of dishes. Sokka would not approve. Like the victor's celebration dinner a few weeks ago, we are supposed to stand and eat so we can talk. _Mingle_, like Bowen says. It's so silly to me. Why can't I just huddle around a warm pot over the fire and enjoy a nice, normal meal?

Pakku and Hama pretty much neglect me. They spend more time talking to their "friends" but I don't have the heart to say anything to them. They may never see some of these people again. I stay close to Bowen, since he seems to know everyone.

My first real uncomfortable moment is with Sage. She has black jagged hair, chin length, and several studs pierced through her ears. Not quite as scrawny as when I watched her compete, but she's still a whole head shorter than me. Her grey eyes are bleak and glassy, like she's seen far more than what her age indicates. Her interest in me is alarming, but I feel strange talking to someone who can't talk back.

Bowen surprises me by knowing a language with his hands, and they communicate that way. I just stand here awkwardly, desperate to go find Pakku and Hama, but they are now talking to the strangest looking man I've ever seen. He's wearing the most elaborate purple and green robes, his grey hair sticking out in all directions. The way everyone else is eyeing him carefully makes me stay where I am. I'll have to ask Pakku who he is later.

Bowen laughs suddenly and I turn to see Sage saunter off with what must be her mentor. "What did she say? I mean, what did she…sign?"

"She said a lot of things," he says carefully, trying to hide his amusement.

"No, what did she say just now," I say sharply. "She said something about me, didn't she?"

He just laughs, infuriating me further. I don't get the chance to question him further because the giant screen flashes bright and silence fills the hall. The candles dim so the hall is nearly dark, the screen glowing brighter. It flickers a little and then Zhao's face comes into focus. Without a word, I leave Bowen to find Pakku and Hama as Zhao begins to speak.

Moving through the crowded hall proves to be difficult as I can barely see. I bump and push my way through, apologizing over and over and keeping my face down. I finally catch sight of their blue robes, but when I move toward them, I bump into someone else who actually grabs my elbow and spins me around.

"What are you doing?" Zuko hisses at me, low enough so only I will hear.

I try to yank my arm free, but his grip is too tight. "Um, going to my team. What are _you_ doing?" I whisper.

"You know that's not what I meant."

I stare at him blankly, but in the darkness all I can really see is the gold of his eyes. "No, I really don't."

"My father thinks highly of him and his...talents." There is bitterness and anger in his voice, and maybe a little jealousy. "But I don't trust him." Zuko's eyes flick in my direction briefly before flickering away. "He'll just hurt you in the end," he says.

_You don't even get it, do you?_ For the first time in a very long time, I let myself feel. I acknowledge it. Embrace it.

"Like you haven't?" I say in a cracking voice. "Like he could _possibly_ hurt me the way you can? Like you _have_?"

Zuko doesn't look back at me, but he goes so still I swear he stops breathing. He remains that way, the only movement his fists clenching at his side. Then his chin drops slightly. Shame. He tilts his head away, but not before I see the guilt and pain that's there. But he won't say anything. I know he won't.

I wanted to hurt him with words as much as he has me, but I don't feel any relief. I just feel numb.

I catch sight of Pakku watching me. Zuko doesn't stop me when I walk away. If his gaze follows me, I don't know. I don't look back, even with every step that feels so resistant it's like I'm wading through snow.

Pakku doesn't say anything to me. He just sighs and looks back at the screen. Hama smiles at me, her eyes twinkling with the pretty blue shadow our artists must have applied. I catch the end of what Zhao is saying.

"…the tributes have been ranked based on their scores." The screen flickers, and a list of names and numbers flashes across it. Zhao begins reading down the list, but I tune him out, reading it for myself:

_ 1. Chong Li_

_2. Pakku_

_3. Bowen_

_4. Chit Sang_

_5. Vachir_

_6. Lia_

_7. Bin_

_8. Gyatso_

_9. Zuko_

_10. Sage_

_11. Xin Fu_

_12. Tyro_

_13. Hama_

_14. Iona_

_15. Akita_

_16. Meeko_

_17. Yuko_

_18. Mina_

_19. Lola_

_20. Midori_

_21. Iko_

_22. Sanyu_

_23. Dock_

_24. Lily_

There is cheering and hollering from the hall. I stare at the list with a little confusion. Zuko is ranked ninth? That seems lower than what I expect. Bin is ranked above him? The scared young boy who was practically crying when his name was called? I can hardly believe it. Maybe Zuko and Iroh have a strategy for him to coast somewhere in the middle. That was our strategy with Hama. Seeing Pakku at number two makes me proud though.

"Nice job, old man," I say to him with a grin. He doesn't say anything, but I swear the corners of his lips twitch, like he wants to smile.

The screen flashes again, and this time there is a new list. The bracket for the Duels. It shows the list of dueling groups, as well as how the winners will advance. Zhao's voice is barely audible over the commotion around the room. I focus on just the list of groups:

_Duel 1 – Vachir, Hama, Bin, Lola_

_ Duel 2 – Pakku, Iona, Gyatso, Midori_

_ Duel 3 – Bowen, Akita, Zuko, Iko_

_ Duel 4 – Chit Sang, Meeko, Sage, Sanyu_

_ Duel 5 – Chong Li, Xin Fu, Yuko, Dock_

_ Duel 6 – Lia, Mina, Tyro, Lily_

I feel my stomach twist, my heart nearly stopping. Hama has to face Vachir and his shooting. Poor Dock is in the same bracket as the number one ranked tribute, easily the scariest man here. Zuko and Bowen are in the same duel. One of them could die. _Both_ of them could. They will have to fight together, and then fight each other.

And all I can do is watch.

* * *

**A/N:** Thanks for reading! So this is really ironic. What I did first was list all the tributes. Then I ranked them in order from how I thought they would perform in the training session, who would perform badly on purpose, etc. Then I made one of those basketball brackets. You always even the numbers out, so like in the first bracket you have numbers 5, 13, 7, and 19 fighting against each other. The irony is that I didn't even realize Zuko and Bowen would be fighting each other. It just came out that way. :P

**Review responses:**

**MHZutaraFanGirl: "Long story short, my brother got diagnosed with cancer so we're staying with him for Christmas, and his internet access is terrible"** - I am so sorry to hear about your brother. My grandma was diagnosed a few years ago and thankfully was able to get rid of it. I wish him all the best!

**"I personally put it on high standards in the fanfiction world, and it's not even complete yet."** - Thank you so much! I wasn't sure how it would go over since TBG was so action packed. But I'm pleased you are enjoying it so. :D

**"Random theory time: I think that maybemaybeif Katara dies in all of this (please don't do such an evil thing), Zuko may battle his father like Aang did in the series finale. Either that, or Katara will battle Ozai."** - I have to say one of my biggest challenges has been trying to figure out who will be fighting Ozai. (Because we all know there has to be a battle there, lol.) I think I know the direction I want to go, but that could always change. :P

**rayningnight: "I totally agree with my friend that you should publish this for REAL. This is not total plagiarizing ATLA or THG since you've managed to weave almost completely different things into it! You'd get money! And fame!"** - Haha! Well, it really WOULD be plagiarizing. :P But I appreciate the thought! Hopefully I will be able to write my own book someday. That's the plan at least. Then bring on the money and fame! lmao

**"Okay, now about this Q/A for the characters... what's that about?"** - Basically every so many reviews (usually 300) I let the readers ask a single quesstion to a character of their choosing. :) The next session is when we reach 1,400 so that means readers will be able to ask next update! :) And yes, you would just ask the question in your review. ;)

**"Will the Avatar exist in this story?"** - Not in this story, no. Everything that the Avatar represents is already present in these characters. Just in a different way. Power, leadership, hope, etc.

**meli101: "Writers who are smutty and use smut as a way to 'show' love really bother me. I think you can show love or affection through the little things."** - Yeah, I prefer the little things too. I'm not a huge smut fan..especially if they haven't developed a relationship yet.

**"My only concern is that the children who were chosen, why didn't their parent volunteer, or did the people who actually volunteered, volunteer for the districts where the children were chosen?"** - Only those who had names into the reaping could volunteer. Since Zuko's name was in there (because he's the child of a previous victor) he was able to volunteer. Remember, those who could be chosen were the children of previous victors, or victors who had no children. Chong Li, for example, had no children to "sacrifice" so to say, so his name went in. Ozai is a previous victor, so he did not have to put his name in, but he had to put his child in. Hope that makes sense. :P

**Sabby: "are elements of Korra going to be presented in the story?"** - Not so much in this one (a little toward the end) but definitely in the third and final story in this trilogy. :D

**emms: "am I the only one who thinks BOWEN HAS A CRUSH ON KATARA?"** - Haha I don't think you are the only one.


	21. Visitor

**Chapter 21 - Visitor**

The first round of the tournament finally arrives. Jeong Jeong sticks to his word and only provides money for armor and protective boots. Joo Dee and I use a portion of Sen's donation to purchase water, bandages, and a healing token of each rank. I think the healing tokens are a waste of money, but Joo Dee says they may not allow Hama and Pakku to heal themselves. The store will be open throughout the entire tournament, but items become more expensive as the rounds progress. If we're going to buy healing tokens, I guess it's a good thing we are buying them now rather than later.

On the morning of the first round, the cafeteria is uncomfortably tense during breakfast. Somehow the stone benches feel colder than before, and the dreariness has nothing to do with the windowless walls and lack of sunshine. Even though I'm not competing, I feel that same sense of dread. I don't want to lose anyone I care about. A quick scan of the cafeteria lets me know no one else does either.

Guests have been pooling in all morning, escorted by Guards to the main arena underground. I haven't seen any of them, but it's hard not to hear the footsteps of hundreds of people in the stone corridors whispering animatedly in excitement. Zhao said the arena holds forty-thousand. I can't even imagine fighting in front of that many people. It also puts into perspective just how many Fire citizens there are, since no one from other provinces—except for the tributes' families—are allowed to be a spectator.

I try to calm by nerves by taking a sip of tea, but it's tasteless and discomforting. Sugar and honey doesn't help either. The cafeteria is nearly silent with just us mentors. The tributes had to go straight to their holding cells underground. I found out this morning that from now on, all food they receive throughout the tournament has to be paid for by our sponsors. I purchased bread, water and soup this morning for Pakku and Hama and had it sent to their cell. I don't think they'll want anything heavy and it was inexpensive.

They'll be waiting in a temporary holding cell before everyone is taken to the arena. The final hour before midday—when the tournament actually begins—the tributes are allowed visitors. Just like with the Black Games. When I read this bit in the scroll, my mind immediately drifted into the direction I've been trying to avoid.

Should I visit Zuko? Or should I just stick with my team and spend the final hour with them? There is never enough time for strategy, right? What if they have questions I need to answer? Our Elites will be there, too. Maybe they need to talk to me. Suddenly I feel like all our hours of preparation aren't good enough.

The White Lotus has been ordered to ensure that Zuko makes it out alive. But that doesn't mean Pakku, Hama, Bowen, or even Sage has to die in the process. I have to try everything I can to make sure everyone comes back. But what if our plan fails? What if I never see Zuko again? Even worse, what if Zuko _and_ my tributes die? Or Bowen, what about him? Don't I owe him something for everything he's done?

As much as I try to ignore it, the thoughts continue to bug me as I finish up breakfast.

Part of me is a little afraid, afraid of what to say to any of them. My heart constricts when I think about how my dad must have felt. How do you prepare for this? How do you decide what to say to someone when you might never have the chance again? Is there even a _right_ way to say a potential goodbye?

Suddenly I remember Iroh this morning. Seeing him barely sit down for tea before leaving the cafeteria. He didn't even look at me. I don't think he noticed anything at all. His thoughts were on Zuko, and only him. Iroh will spend as much time as he can with his nephew. Zuko will not be alone.

Hama and Pakku will be though. They don't have anyone but me. And no one should spend their final hour alone.

I finish the rest of my cold porridge quickly, and then make my way to the holding cells. Visitors are starting to arrive, escorted by the Guards. A woman is sobbing in the cell on my right, but I can't make out what tribute is in there and who she is sobbing for. More Guards are posted along the corridors, so I just keep walking, pretending not to hear.

I pass more cells, feeling a sense of wrongness that I'm hearing such personal and private conversations. But the cells have iron bars for doors, so it's impossible to avoid. I try to tune all the voices out and keep moving—why must my tributes be so far away?—but it's hard to ignore the desperation and crying. But as hard as I concentrate on ignoring it all, I still catch a familiar voice saying, "You don't look well. Have you been eating? You know how…"

I step up to the cell and peer through the bars, ignoring the two Guards stationed outside the door. Inside I see the back of a woman dressed in a tattered ivory gown. Her hair is a dull black, wispily long and dead looking. Her body is frail and small, almost like a sick child. The lighting is dim, but I can still make out who is sitting in front of her on the bed and clasping her hands—Bowen.

"Keep moving, Victor," says one of the Guards.

The voice makes the woman jump. She turns around sharply and squints at me; Bowen cranes his neck around her thin body to look, too. It's hard to tell, but the color seems to drain from his face.

"Who is there?" the woman calls out anxiously. "Who are you? Why are you in my house?"

Her _house_?

Bowen gets to his feet and very gently moves the woman to the side. The Guard grips my arm tightly and starts to shove me away, but Bowen is there in a flash. "She's visiting me, too," he says. "Let her in."

"You know the rules. Only one visitor at a time," says the Guard.

"Do we really need to talk about _rules_, Wong? Or should I remind you of the incident a few months back? Let her in." There Guard shifts uncomfortably and then opens the door; the sound of it dragging against the stone floor makes me cringe. The other Guard pretends not to notice anything.

Once the Guards turn away Bowen throws me an anxious, almost fearful sort of look before going back to the woman. He speaks soothingly to her, and it's like I'm not here at all. I barely manage a step inside, wanting more than anything to be anywhere else. The door clicks shut behind me, locking me in.

With my back pressed to the cold door, I peer around and see a tall, thick looking man in ivory robes. He's standing in the corner, like a spectator. He hasn't moved an inch, but his body is very tense. The woman is whispering in Bowen's ear, speaking so quickly I can't catch even a word of it. Her fingers knot into her robes anxiously.

"She's a friend of mine," Bowen reassures the woman. "Her name is Katara."

The woman looks at me suddenly, blinking. Closer to the light of the flame, I can see her a little more. I can't tell if her withered face is strictly from age, or if fatigue and sickness is also a factor. Either way, she is a sad thing to look at. She isn't well. That much I know.

"Why are you in my house?" she asks me quietly. Her green eyes are intense and probing, demanding. I swallow uncomfortably and look at Bowen expectantly.

"I invited her," he tells her. There is a certain care in the way that he's looking at the woman, like she's going to break any moment. When he looks back at me, there's that hesitancy and fear again. He almost looks afraid of _me_, which doesn't make any sense. All I know is that I don't belong here.

I clear my throat. "I should probably leave. I was just…I'm sorry."

Before I can, however, the woman quickly asks, "Are you one of those people?"

"What people?"

She lets go of Bowen and moves toward me, her bare feet padding across the floor. I wonder how she stands the cold and why she isn't wearing any shoes. Bowen follows closely behind, wary. The man in the corner shifts from foot to foot.

"Do you fight?" she whispers. I don't know what she means, exactly, or what I should say. Her gaze drifts to my throat. "I don't like them," she says. "They took him from me." Her eyes well up with tears. I look at Bowen in alarm, but he looks so anguished all of the sudden that I don't know what to do. "They killed my son!" the woman screams. "They took him from me! You are the same!_ MURDERER_!"

Then she lunges at me. She's surprisingly quick, but Bowen moves faster. His arms encircle her body as she continues to wail and scream. The Guards wrench open the door and the man in the ivory robes moves out of his corner. I catch the flash of silver in his hand—a needle.

"She'll calm down," Bowen tells him, pulling the woman closer. She just continues sobbing and screaming, struggling in his arms.

"They killed him!" she keeps yelling. "He is dead, dead, dead!"

"Just give her a minute," says Bowen. I've never seen him look or sound so desperate.

"She has been here too long, Master Bowen," says the other man. "It is too much. Give her to me."

"Just wait," Bowen implores, but at the sight of the warning from the Guards, fire whips in hand, he lets her go. The woman practically runs into the arms of the robed man, pounding at his chest. Bowen watches helplessly, his expression broken. The man raises the needle and, before I can do so much as take a step, plunges it into her arm. It's a few seconds before the woman calms down, but eventually her breathing relaxes and her body shakes with quiet sobs.

The man puts an arm around the woman's shoulders. "Let's take a walk, Miss Mica. How about I read you some of _The_ _Dragon Lady_?"

The woman presses her palms to her eyes. "I…I don't know that story," she says helplessly.

"Of course you do. It's one of your favorites," says the man. He guides the woman to the door. The Guards have smartly removed the fire, but are still standing close. The man distracts the woman from the Guards by keeping her face tilted toward his as he whispers to her.

"Five minutes," a Guard says to me, before shutting the door and resuming his post.

_What just happened?_

"How did her son die?" I ask quietly, staring at the iron bars of the door.

There is a long stretch of silence. "He didn't," Bowen says finally.

At his tone I look at him. And that's all I need. His posture, the sadness in his eyes, the carefully hidden agony on his face, the way he's staring at the door like he just watched it burn to ash.

"You," I whisper. "You're her son."

He looks over at me and the corner of his lips turn up in response, only it's a very sad, very tired sort of smile.

"Why doesn't she know who you are? I mean…I'm sorry," I say quickly, flushing. "That's none of my business. I didn't even mean to come in here, I just—"

"She forgets," he cuts in, plunking down on the bed. I find myself taking a seat next to him without even realizing it. "Some days she doesn't even know her name. The healers don't know what's wrong with her, but they haven't been able to heal her. We've tried everything." A hand rakes through his hair. "Her illness is in the mind, and Waterbender's haven't found ways to heal the mind yet. At least not hers."

What a heartbreaking thing, to have a life you don't even remember. To have a _son_ you don't remember. I find myself conflicted between wanting to know more and wanting to run from the cell.

"How long has she been this way?" I ask despite myself.

"She'd always forget things, but they were small things, like forgetting to dry the clothes, or forgetting what ingredients we needed to buy from the market. I didn't think anything of it, you know?" Bowen gives a small, stiff shrug. "It got a little worse when I was about ten. She forgot the way home. But I didn't think she was sick—just forgetful."

"That's understandable," I say. "It's not your fault, you know."

He shakes his head. "If I had known, I could have done something sooner."

"You were just a kid. How could you know?"

"I don't know," he says quietly, shaking his head again. We sit in silence a moment. "It got bad after I won the Games," he says finally. "About a year after I won, she forgot everything. Thought I died in the Games. Her mind mixed up reality and fantasy. She functions somewhere in between. She knows my face, knows it's familiar, but she doesn't know who I am. Whenever I try to tell her, she just gets worked up again. So I stopped trying to force her to remember. Maybe she just needs to remember on her own, I don't know."

My heart breaks for him. I want to tell him I know how he feels, but I don't. I have no idea. Suddenly, though, pieces of Bowen's life start making a little more sense. Our conversation in the ally of Province One comes back to me:

_"Maybe I just believe in what you're doing."_

_"And what's that?"_

_"Saving someone you love." He looks away then, the muscles in his jaw working. "Not everyone can."_

"Maybe she will remember with time," I offer him gently.

"It's been six years," he says, defeated.

I try another angle. "What about your father?"

"What father?" Bowen laughs, but it sounds hollow and bitter. "He stayed around long enough to knock my mother up. And then he left."

I cringe at his choice of words. "Then you're all she has. Don't give up on her yet."

"I haven't," he says with a sigh. "That's why we're still here."

"What do you mean?"

He looks at me then, his eyes softening. "The less you know, the better off you'll be. Trust me on that."

The door bangs open. "One minute," says one of the Guards in warning. He slams the door shut.

"There is no better off for me," I say, getting to my feet. I hesitate a moment, my fingers playing with the bison whistle. My voice lowers. "Don't think I haven't considered the fact that you could betray all of us and kill Zuko in the first round if the Fire Lord wants you to."

"You have that little faith in his fighting ability?" says Bowen, amused.

"I have plenty of faith in his fighting ability, but you don't fight fair," I say. "Your dagger throwing is practically cheating."

"It's not, actually," says Bowen. His voice drops slightly. "And besides, the Fire Lord wouldn't order me to do that. I'm too valuable to him to paint a target on my back."

"We both know you could make it an accident."

"Probably," he agrees. He leans back on his hands, grinning. "You are determined to make me a villain and I haven't done a single thing to betray you. Or hurt you."

"I know." I sigh, frustrated. "I just..."

"It's hard for you to trust people with people you care about," he says. "You think I don't understand that?"

I immediately feel bad, thinking of his mother. I wonder who cares for her now. Is she all alone in Province 6, while Bowen lives here? I'm about to ask, but he says, "Look, Kat. Not many people know about my mom and I want to keep it that way. Alright?"

"I wasn't going to tell anyone." I grin at him slightly. "Your fangirls would be heartbroken."

"They don't hold a candle to the woman my mother once was," he says. The protective tone in his voice makes me proud, of all things, and even a little sad. I wish I could have known my mom enough to feel that way.

The Guard opens the door again. "Time's up."

* * *

I find Pakku's cell first. We waste no time and immediately talk strategy. He seems certain the first round will be easy to survive.

"Just send in the water once the round begins," he says. "Save everything else for later rounds."

I look at the armor sitting on the floor. "You need to wear that," I say, pointing to it. "I didn't go through all that trouble with Jeong Jeong so it could be wasted."

"I'm not wearing that," snaps Pakku. "It's too heavy and I can hardly move in it."

"It's resistant to fire," I point out. "You'll be thanking me when you encounter a dragon or a Master Firebender."

He mutters something under his breath that I don't quite catch it. We go over last minute details before I leave. I need to get going so I can visit with Hama. My throat suddenly feels a little thick. I know everything I should say, but none of it comes out.

I find myself hugging Pakku so tightly it surprises even me. He's a little stunned, a little stiff, but eventually he relaxes just long enough to hug me back briefly.

"Alright," he says gruffly. "Alright. I'm not dead yet."

I laugh and quickly wipe under my eyes. "I know. I want you to know I'm going to do everything I can to help."

"Try not to do anything stupid, then."

"Try not to get yourself killed in the first round."

He waves his hand dismissively and moves to the bed. Pulling back a thin layer of covers, he picks up a small, pain wooden box.

"What's that? Did you get me a present?" I ask playfully.

"He sent this for you. Thought you'd be here." Pakku hands me the box. "Guess he was right."

My smile vanishes and my breath stills. I flip off the lid. A note covers what is hidden inside. Pushing the note aside, I reach into the box and pull out a very familiar blue pendent. My thumb brushes the grooves that have been shaped to resemble water. The stone feels smoother than usual, like it's been polished. But most impressively, the blue fabric is no longer torn. The stitching is barely noticeable.

I swallow a lump in my throat and reach for the note, wishing that I had read it first. Now I just feel dread and sadness. Predictably, the note is short and to the point:

_I'm sorry it took me so long._

My fingers curl around the pendant as I clutch it to my heart.

"He's in the last cell on the right," says Pakku, a little reluctantly.

I nod and take a deep breath, making my way toward the cell door. I turn around and smile at my mentor. "Good luck, old man," I say. It isn't until I'm outside the iron barred door do I hear him.

"And you, foolish girl."

I pass more and more visitors in the corridor. Many are crying. One man is being detained by two Guards. Making all the tributes say goodbye in the same corridor has to be emotionally draining on them. Maybe that's what the Elites are going for. Destroying their emotions before they even start.

"A visitor, Prince Zuko," says one of the Guards stationed at the prince's cell.

Zuko looks up. Two healers are wrapping his hands and wrists with a familiar material I've seen Sokka wear on his forearms. Sokka swears warriors need them to fight, but I always thought he was trying to make a fashion statement.

"Katara?" Zuko sounds as surprised as I feel. "Let her in."

I step inside, suddenly nervous. To stay distracted, I play with the pendant in my hands. It barely helps. _Just say thank you, and leave. Don't be stupid. _

Zuko whispers something to the healers. They bow in response and exit the room. The door slams loudly, making me jump. Just like that, we're alone.

I don't even know where to start. When I look up, I'm relieved that Zuko isn't staring at me. Actually he's trying to finish wrapping his hands—unsuccessfully.

I slip the pendant into my front pocket. "Let me do that," I say to him. As expected, he ignores me, and as he should expect, I bat his hands away and do it myself. "You're not very good at this sort of thing."

"I've always had other people do it for me."

A snort of laughter escapes me. "Well, of course you have." I stay focused on the wrapping. It provides for a good distraction on top of the nosy corridor. The noise outside fuels my nerves though. It's not long until I have to go to the arena. "Have you had many visitors?"

"Not many I care about."

I want to ask if his father has visited, but somehow that seems rude. Or maybe I just don't want to know the answer.

"Are you ready?" I ask him, tugging the wrapping tight on his left hand. I move to the right one. "Have you and Iroh prepared for the other tributes? What about the dragons and other creatures they might send in?"

"Did you come here just to interrogate me?" he asks, somehow managing to sound irritated and amused at the same time.

"No." I tug the wrapping extra tight. "I came here because…" I look up and words die in my throat. Not because we're standing so close I can practically feel his breath. Not because he's shirtless—which I just _now_ notice. The hesitation is because I don't know _why_ I'm here, exactly. At least I find it hard to say in words.

"What token are you taking into the arena?" I blurt out suddenly.

He blinks at me. "What?"

"Are you taking your crown again?"

He makes a face and I immediately regret asking, knowing we're thinking the same thing. The last time that crown saw the arena it was stabbed into the princess by me.

"No," he says. He pulls free from me then and walks over to grab his tunic off the bed. He slips it over his head. "I'm not taking anything in. Why?"

"Will you wear something for me then?" I ask, my heart suddenly racing. The idea seems to come from nowhere, and yet I feel like it's been there the whole time.

He raises a brow in question. "Like what?"

I reach into my robes and hold out my pendant. I can already see the hesitation forming on his face so I reach out and grab his hand. Carefully, I tie the pendant around his right wrist like a bracelet. I can't bear to see his reaction, so without looking at him I say quietly, "I know this might sound stupid, but I feel like I should be out there with you. At least this way, part of me will be."

I step back once I finish tying it. Zuko looks at the pendant and then back at me. I force myself to meet his gaze.

"I can't wear this," he says quietly. "Not when I know what it means to you."

"That's exactly why I want you to wear it." My voice is just as quiet. My heart is beating so fast I can't believe he doesn't hear it. _I thought you should know how much you mean to me,_ I want to say, but I can't.

He opens his mouth to speak, possibly to protest, but I cut him off, "Promise you'll bring it back to me."

"Katara—"

"Promise me."

He sighs, resigned. "I promise you will get it back."

"That's not the same thing."

His eyes flicker to my face. "I know."

Before I can overthink it, I fling my arms around his neck. The hug takes Zuko by surprise, but after a moment his arms slide around my waste and hold me tight. The top of his head rests on top of mine. "Don't die, okay?"

I expect some sort of sarcastic remark, or some comment about bossing him around, but he just says "Okay."

"I know you don't trust him, but Bowen is your ally out there," I say. "Trust me on that."

He doesn't say anything, but I know his silence is more of a defeated agreement than a protest.

"I have to go," I say, but I make no move to do so.

"I know."

We stand like that for what feels like forever, but in reality is probably only a few minutes. Finally he releases me. I have this feeling like I need to remind him of everything he might need to know for the Duels, but I clamp down on my tongue lightly to stop myself. _He's prepared. He's ready. Just let him go._

"You're going to do fine," I say, a little more panicky than I'd like. "You and Bowen will win this round."

"I know."

"Don't worry."

"I won't." He smiles slightly. "You're on watch."

I smile back, but it hurts my chest to do it. The panic I'm feeling is so bad I almost start shaking. "Nothing gets past my watch," I manage to say with some effort.

Zuko pulls me back to his chest. "Do you still have the dagger I gave you?" he asks against my hair.

"Yes," I say, confused.

"Good. Keep it with you."

"Why?"

"I can't protect you when the Duels start."

I pull back and give him a look. "I don't need you to protect me, you know."

"Sometimes you do." He leans down and presses his lips to my forehead. Then he pulls something from his robes and places it in my hands. Cold, smooth, sharp and familiar. His crown. "And sometimes I need you to protect me."

My fingers curl around the crown. I lean forward so our foreheads touch. "Always," I say.

"Always," he says back.

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**A/N:** Thanks for reading! I apologize for the terribly long wait. I was battling sickness this whole month. Sinus infection and the flu. Boo! I appreciate you guys waiting and hope you liked it. :D Time for a character Q&A, yes? Remember you get only one question, so choose wisely! Oh and don't forget I can't answer spoilery stuff. :P

Next chapter..the action begins!


	22. The First Round

**A/N:** Soooo sorry for the long wait. Again. I've been very busy these past few months with coaching, school and sickness. Blah. Anyway, I made this chapter extra long so hopefully that makes up for it a little. :) Thanks for your patience and enjoy!

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**Chapter 22 - The First Round**

There is nothing quite like the sound of thousands of people chanting and roaring all around you. In other circumstances, it might feel motivating to know all these people are rooting for you because they care for your wellbeing. But we all know better. They are screaming, shouting out their favorite tributes and holding up banners with province numbers because this is nothing but entertainment for them.

I feel no better than the crowd as I am about to watch it all helplessly from my mentor's box. Each province has been given their own. I suppose these were reserved for the nobles during the Games of Old to keep them separated from the general public. The boxes are nothing more than a square room large enough to hold at least thirty people; which I suppose may be needed for popular provinces since the sponsors are in here too, along with Joo Dee and my team of Elites. So are servants carrying trays of rich foods and fine wines. The smell of luxury in a time like this makes me sick.

The back of the room is open and empty, presumably to encourage socializing. The front has no wall at all. It's completely open to give us a perfect view of the arena. At the edge of the room, tarnished stone stairs lead down to our private seating. The stone benches have been covered with rich furs and white carpets. Blue and white curtains drape around the room, an attempt at bringing some life to this cold and damp place. The boxes are built into the stone, but they stick out a little further, distancing us from the people. Iron railings also help keep the distance, and if that isn't enough, there are two Guards here.

The arena itself is a colossal stone- amphitheater structure situated deep under the prison. It's more of an elliptical shape, stone benches circling all around it. The tiered seating is separated into three sections—the lower, middle, and high. The lower section, the seats closest to the actual arena, are for the wealthiest, whereas the lower class—is anyone here really _low_ class?—will be seated in the high section. It's so high up there I have no idea how they'll see.

_Lucky for them._

The mentor boxes are in the middle of the arena, in the middle section. _You couldn't ask for better seating_, Joo Dee says. I'd agree if this was any other event. As it is, if I can't do anything to stop this madness, I just want to close my eyes until it's all over. But I can't do that. I have a job to do, and Sokka always said it was brave to watch the things we don't want to see.

"I didn't know you were going to be in here," I say when the door opens and in steps the rest of our team. June grins at me, brushing dark hair out of her eyes that never seems to stay behind her ear.

"Where else am I supposed to go? Not down there with all those crazy people, surely," she says, gesturing toward the crowd around us.

"Welcome to our royal quarters," I say sarcastically. Nina, Cho and Pema are huddled together, looking around the box in a mix of horror and awe. Their bright and festive clothes don't match the dreary atmosphere at all.

"Charming." June eyes the bison whistle hanging from my belt. "Nice touch."

I glance down and pat the whistle. I decided to wear a simple arctic blue dress layered over pants that I've tucked into a pair of brown boots. The girls wanted to do my hair but I refused to get all dolled up for this. A simple braid is always fine with me. I wanted this outfit because I can easily tie the whistle around my waist.

"I like to carry things from the people who mean something to me," I say.

"I'll be sure to give you a vial of my blood sometime," she teases, but her playfulness dies when her gaze searches past me. I turn and find what she is staring at.

The Fire Lord and the rest of the royal family—accompanied by about a dozen Guards—are seated across the arena on a raised platform that has been engraved into the stone structure. I think the Fire Sages are there too, but it's hard to tell from this distance. I do, however, see him rise from his golden throne. The crowd falls silent at once and everyone in my box, apart from Jeong Jeong, takes their seat. I remain standing by the railing until Joo Dee pulls me down next to her.

"Welcome to the 3rd Quarter Duels and to one of the finest establishments here at the Capital, the Fire Nation Prison," he says, speaking into a voice amplifier. I should have expected the sudden burst of cheering from the crowd, but somehow it still surprises me. The Fire Lord begins going over the rules that I've read a thousand times, explaining how the tournament works. The crowd barely contains their excitement. I fight to keep my face neutral in case any Watcher catches my expression.

Qin Lee takes the stage next and it only further elates the crowd. I know why they like him—even _I_ liked him a little—but it still makes me bitter. "And now, the tributes you have been waiting to see!" he says excitedly. "First, from Province 1: your very own Prince Zuko and Lia!"

My fingers itch to reach into my satchel and squeeze the gold crown, as though that small comfort will somehow ensure Zuko's safety. I haven't told anyone that I have it, and some instinct tells me to keep it that way. The Elites will probably think I stole it and have me locked up somewhere, especially with my record for "stealing."

I can barely make out the sounds of chains rattling against the cheering, but I see one of the large iron-barred entries to the arena begin to rise. Then, two ostrich horses run out of the darkness and carry Zuko and Lia in a small golden chariot. The crowd roars so loudly that it feels like the arena shakes. A canon blasts somewhere in the distance. I close my eyes a moment and count to ten.

_No one has just died_, I remind myself. _You are not out there anymore. You are safe here._

I open my eyes. The chariot is taking a lap around the entire arena, showing off the tributes. Both are wearing impressive armor; Zuko's a glimmering gold, striking contrast against the black of Lia's. She waves to the crowd, but Zuko just keeps his head high in that proud manner of his, tipping his chin a few times in acknowledgement. Even without his crown he looks regal out there, surrounded by all that gold.

With so many people, I doubt he will spot me in the sea of faces. I look away before I can find out though.

"Your worrying is very unbecoming," says Sen from my left. The jeweled rings on her fingers glimmer against the shiny goblet in her hand. She has dressed up for the occasion, wearing a long satin gown that is a vibrant shade of red with black fur around the collar.

"There are many good fighters here," I admit.

"It's not about winning duels, silly girl," she says. "It's about winning over the _crowd_. Don't you see how much they love him?"

I can't deny the crowd's reaction, but how can they love him when they accepted his death so easily? I think of Azula, too, despite how much I've tried not to. I still receive the occasional death threat or angry glances from citizens of the Capital, but the hatred from them has started to fade. The Duels have provided them with a distraction, I guess.

Sometimes I wish they still hated me as much as before. Hating me keeps the memories of the Games alive. Part of me wants to forget everything, and yet I want to remember all of it. I want _everyone_ to remember. No matter how painful it is, it's not fair to those who died to forget, not even Azula.

"No they don't," I say quietly. "They only love his title, and will therefore love whoever has it."

"Funny how that works, isn't it?" She raises a brow and silently holds up her goblet for a servant to refill. "The people do love their royalty."

"They seem quick to forget them," I snap bitterly.

"Such a sharp tongue you have," she says, her eyes glimmering with amusement.

"Yes, it amazes me how _every_ day she forgets her manners," Joo Dee reprimands. Her voice lowers. "Perhaps you ought to get Jeong Jeong. He is missing the introductions."

"I don't think he cares," I answer. He hasn't left his shadow by the door since the moment he stepped through it. Actually, I think he might be napping under his cloak back there. I don't know whether to laugh or go over and shake him.

Joo Dee looks momentarily conflicted, as though contemplating fetching him herself. She must think better of it, though, because her gaze drifts over to the Elites. They have been silent since their arrival, sitting together as far away from us as possible. When the tournament starts, it will be my job to tell the Airbender when to send in the supplies. Each item is wrapped in a crimson package attached to a parachute numbered with our province. In another circumstance, it looks like a mountain of gifts waiting to be opened.

I watch the rest of the introductions in silence. Not at all surprisingly, Bowen wins over the crowd, jumping out of his chariot to throw pretty red flowers to the audience. I roll my eyes at his antics, but suppose it's a good strategic move. The women are sure swooning now and no doubt are his biggest sponsors. Pakku and Hama earn cheers more out of politeness than anything else, but I clap extra loudly. The silver armor Jeong Jeong paid for suits them well and the way Nina tied back Hama's hair makes her look fierce. I feel proud watching them, seeing their chins raised high and their unflinching gazes that even I can see from here.

I get up from my seat, ignoring Joo Dee's calls, and walk to the back of the room to see Jeong Jeong. He isn't asleep, but his arms are crossed tightly and it's very apparent how much he doesn't want to be here.

"The armor looks good," I say.

"Better hope it works better than it looks," he says gruffly.

I take a deep breath. "Look, I know you want to be here about as much as I do, but I just wanted to say thank you. Whatever your motive is for helping, I appreciate it."

Before he can say anything and possibly ruin the moment, I turn and go back to my seat, leaving him in the shadows.

The chariots line up in front of the Fire Lord's podium after circling the arena once. He begins to speak again but I'm only halfway listening. I catch words like "honor" and "duty" and "courage" and feel that familiar rage rising in my throat. How dare he talk about any of those things when he has no idea what they mean!

I nearly stand up in protest—to say what, I don't know—but the Fire Nation anthem begins to play and the chariots head back to the iron gateway.

Joo Dee leans over to me, clutching a hand to her chest. "Oh, finally, the first duel is about to begin," she says, sounding both excited and anxious. "This is Hama's duel."

"I know that," I snap at her. She glances at me in mild shock, but I've already gotten up and moved toward the Elites. "As soon as the cannon fires I want Hama's water sent in," I say to them. "Understand?"

All three peer up at me through their hooded cloaks. The one closest to me rises to his feet, and I'm forced to move back a step. "You will mind your tone and do well to remember your place, Victor."

"I am fully aware of my place as a _mentor_," I say, hands flying to my hips. "And that means you do what I say, when I say it."

June makes a sound that is somewhere between a snort and a cough.

"Katara!" Joo Dee gasps. "Your manners, please!"

"Manners will not save anyone," I say, my gaze still locked on the Elite's. I know he is probably ten times more powerful than me, but I am too angry right now to care. He might be a Master, but his job is to help me and my team. "I have tried being friendly to all three of you and you have thrown it back at me. You do not care for me, or my province, but you have been assigned to us and I expect your _honor_ and _duty_ to remind you of your responsibilities to my team."

For a moment, I think the man may just light me on fire—his eyes indicate a Firebender—but the middle man chooses this moment to speak up. "You heard the girl," he says. He's never spoken before, that much I know by the unfamiliarity of his voice. Judging from the raspy and weak quality, he is quite old. "I will send the water in."

"But—"

"Our duty is to assist the mentor for Province 9, Elias," he says, a little more sternly. "You are young and proud, too used to being in the field of the Black Games. You wave your Elite title around like royalty and forget the true significance of what it means. Perhaps it is _you_ who should remember your place."

Elias stares down at the older man in shock. I don't think my expression is much different. The third Elite, the one I remember from the first time I met them, finally speaks up. "The girl's wishes will be met," he says. This seems to put an end to the conversation, because Elias sits down in a huff of frustration.

I feel as though I won a small victory, but it is short lived because four iron gates begin to open. The crowd rises to their feet, roaring and chanting so loud I can barely think. I see Hama by the south end of the arena, standing in a cloud of darkness on the edge of an open and bare landscape. When the cannon fires, signaling the start of the duels, Hama will have no shelter. The arena is nothing more than a floor covered in sand and light dirt. Whereas I had the safety of the trees, she will be completely vulnerable.

The Fire Lord raises a hand and all is silent. My heart beats loudly, and for a moment I am back in the arena, waiting for the gong. I brace the rail for support to feel the cold iron before me, reassuring myself that it is real and my imagination is not.

His hand drops. I see two Fire Sages standing by the cannon, but for some reason everything slows all of the sudden, like I'm caught in a strange dream. There is only screaming and nothing. I think the cannon fires. No, it must have, because the tributes take off into the arena. The sound is like an alarm, jolting me back to reality.

"Send the water, now!" I yell at the Elites, who are already on their feet.

The one who stood up to Elias—the Airbender—raises his arms to guide the package through the air and down to the arena. Old he may be, but his bending is flawless, guiding the package perfectly through the air. The rest of the tributes are rushing toward their own packages, many are still drifting through the air. Vachir gets to his first. He is sent in a small sword, a high quality bow and a quiver full of arrows. My heart nearly falls out of my chest. His aim is so good. The last thing he needs is a bow. Young Bin must not be a bender, because he too is sent in a sword and shield. I don't have time to see what Lola receives, because at that moment a half dozen komodo rhinos burst into the stadium. Lola, standing near one of the entrances, is trampled.

The cannon fires, the sound hitting my chest like a hilt to the ribs. It is so much louder here, so loud that it rattles my teeth and throbs in my ears. My eyes close for a moment.

_Focus on your job. Focus on what you must do._

I open my eyes to find Hama pulling water out of the barrel I sent in. She flings a torrent at the rhinos. The water soars in a high arc, like a rainbow of ice, and then takes a dive for the ground and freezes. The rhinos slip against the ice and fall with a loud _thump!_

Vachir sends an arrow into the throat of one of them. It stills instantly, dead. The rest struggle to get to their feet, making terrible, frustrated noises. Bin is still struggling with his shield and the weight of the sword. The weight of the rhinos is beginning to crack and break the ice, and one finally breaks free. It charges at Vachir, who barely manages to dive out of the way. Hama pulls more water and surrounds one of the rhinos. The rhino's face is completely submerged under water. It's legs start kicking harder as it fights for air. I have to fight the urge to look away. Seeing a creature, no matter how dangerous, drown to death, is not something I enjoy watching.

Another rhino has Bin cornered. He swings his sword at it, but it keeps inching closer, closing in on its prey. The sword is clearly too heavy for him, and the shield does little good. He backs up and trips, landing flat on his back. The rhino runs at him with a sound like a battle cry, but an arrow in the back of the neck slows him down. Vachir loads another and lets it fly. The rhino takes three before it goes down. Bin just barely gets to his feet and dodges the beast as it crashes to the ground.

Vachir darts back into the center of the arena, quickly loading another arrow. This one flies in Hama's direction, but at that moment another rhino breaks free of the ice and she had left out of the way. It charges at Hama this time, but she is not near as quick as Vachir.

"Hama, run!" I shout, despite myself, even though it's so loud I know she can't hear me.

She doesn't run, and I scream again in frustration. What is she doing? She holds up a hand, bracing herself. The snarling rhino advances on her, nearly there, when her arm raises and slices in a sharp, arc motion. Water, so thin it is a silvery blue blur, slices into the right front leg of the rhino. It falls to the ground with a loud roar of pain.

Joo Dee gasps so loudly that I look at her, but all she's doing is pointing, her expression of utmost horror. I follow her gaze and see that Hama sliced its foot clear off. Now the beast lies and twitches and roars in a puddle of its own blood. The crowd cheers even louder. I even hear her name amongst the cheering.

Vachir takes another rhino down. He's running out of arrows, but I see a package floating toward the arena. I have no idea if he'll even be able to open it with all the chaos. There is one rhino left and it's broken free of the ice. It's feet thumps loudly against the ground, kicking up sand, as it charges in the arena.

Hama, Vachir and Bin surround the beast, confusing it. Hama summons more water, Vachir loads an arrow—and it all happens too fast. Hama's water shoots out in a hundred small ice daggers, piercing the rhino in the throat and face. At the same time, Vachir sends an arrow straight into Bin's forehead. The young boy falls to his knees, blood spilling down his face. Then his body falls over, dead. The crowd gasps and then roars into cheers.

Two are left standing, and the round is over.

Zhao and a half dozen Elites are in the arena now. Zhao holds up the hands of Vachir and Hama. "Your champions, Vachir from Four, and Hama from Nine!"

Nobody seems to notice the Elites who are removing the dead bodies and animals; the Waterbender's who are washing away the blood from the stained ground. They are too busy cheering for Hama and Vachir.

I sit down numbly, tuning out the echoing around me. Hama has made it. She lived through the first round. I take a deep breath and exhale, relieved. But I can't shake the ill feeling from the creatures that were trained to die, the woman who was trampled over and forgotten, the young boy who was killed way before his years, and the rhino that is bleeding tears.

"Well I'll be damned," June mutters.

"The old woman made it," says Sen approvingly, pulling me out of my dazed state. "Knew she had it in her. Anyone who wins that young isn't going to lose their nerve to age."

"Pakku's duel is next," says Joo Dee, touching my arm and making me flinch. "Are you ready?"

For another round like that? No, that kind of cruelty is not something I will ever be ready for. I saw death in the Black Games. I saw pain, suffering, and cruelty. But I didn't have thousands of people cheering around me, _wanting_ to watch it all. Somehow, it makes a whole lot of difference. If I was a tribute again, maybe it would make me fight harder. But from where I am standing, it makes me want to stop it all.

Pakku's round ends much more quickly. I send in the water immediately, just like I had with Hama. Polar leopards are sent into the arena this time. I know these animals well—they live in the mountains and tundra of Province 9—and I know Pakku does too. I have the Elites send in two spears, knowing the best way to attack them is with a deadly weapon.

Pakku takes two beasts down at once and moves with grace that seems impossible for his age. He manages to use water and the spear at the same time, wielding them with such ease, as though they are an extension of his arms. I watch it awe, a distant part of me envious of his abilities. He has such accuracy that the leopards do not suffer. The spears strike them straight in the heart, killing them instantly.

Gyatso is also impressive, albeit an older man himself. He blasts the leopards back so hard they are knocked out when they hit the stone walls. He and Pakku work together, while Midori and Iona battle each other when the leopards are not hunting them. Midori is a fierce Earthbender, I will give her that. Small, but forceful with her movements. But Iona is a Firebender and shatters the rocks with ease. She has more technique and control in her movements. The Elites blast the rocks apart before they hit the crowd, bits of dust and rock showering the ground. The crowd keeps chanting and hollering and doesn't seem bothered that they could get hit with a flying rock or scorched by fire.

Iona and Midori get too caught up fighting each other that they don't see the trio of leopards that left the pack to stalk the smaller prey. The girls are taken off guard and devoured, ripped to shreds and dragged across the arena. Seeing their mutilated bodies is horrifying, but hearing their screams and seeing Pakku do nothing, and knowing he must do nothing if he wants to live, is even worse.

My dad used to say that sometimes doing nothing is just as terrible as doing something terrible. I wonder how many terrible things we have to do in order to live, and if it's worth it in the end. _You cannot live in this world without a price_, I think.

The cannon fires once, and then twice, echoing in my ears. My box joins in with the celebration of the crowd when Zhao raises Pakku and Gyatso's hands. It takes me a moment to get over what I just watched, but slowly the happiness and relief starts to settle in. I can almost erase the guilt of feeling it.

The Elites begin to make their leave.

"Where are you going?" I ask them.

"To confer with Headmaster Zhao and secure the items that were not used today," says the Airbender. "Do you require anything else?"

"No, I guess not," I say with a frown. They leave so quickly that it almost feels like they were never here. Somehow I expected more from them, but I guess they are only here to send in my supplies and keep it safe for the next round.

"Nicely done," says a voice from behind. I turn and find Jeong Jeong, who is watching me with hooded gold eyes under his cloak. At least he's emerged from his corner.

"I didn't do anything," I say to him. "They did all the fighting."

"You do more than you think," he says brusquely. Then, before I can question him, he turns away from me, walks across the room, and exits the box.

An arm touches my shoulder. "You should go check on Hama and Pakku," says Joo Dee. She has an almost frantic look in her eyes that I don't understand. "The next round is about to start."

The Elites finish clearing up the arena and the crowd seems to be jumping out of their seats in anticipation, cheering even louder than before.

Joo Dee says something else to me, even starts pulling me toward the door, but my legs lock in place as I catch the names chanting through the crowd.

_Zu-ko, Bo-wen, Zu-ko, Bo-wen, Zu-ko, Bo-wen._

With my mind so preoccupied with everything going on, I almost forgot about the next round. _Zuko's_ round.

"You don't have to watch this," says June softly, sounding more sympathetic than I've ever heard her before.

"No, you don't," Joo Dee agrees. "You are allowed to visit Hama and Pakku. In fact, I'd advise it."

I know I should go visit them. There are a thousand reasons to go—to distract me, to check on their wellbeing and health, to congratulate them—but I can think of one very strong reason to stay.

"Stop treating me like I'm a fragile little girl," I say with some effort. Even though I don't want it to, I know desperation leaks out in my voice. It only makes me angrier. "I'm not going anywhere because I…I just _can't_."

Joo Dee stares at me a moment, her features shifting into such rare sadness that I have to look away from her. June says nothing, just puts an arm around my shoulders and squeezes once. Some of the stiffness in my shoulders and back loosens.

"Well, I suppose a round of drinks is called for," says Sen. She snaps her fingers at one of the servants. "More wine!"

I move past them all numbly until I find my seat in the front row. I swing my satchel around and press it to my chest, my fingers clutching the crown through the fabric. June dutifully takes a seat next to me in silence. After a moment, she says, "You can't stop whatever happens."

"I know."

"They will kill you before you even reach the arena."

"I know."

"I know you must feel—"

"You don't know how I feel." My voice is very distant and unfamiliar. "I'm not supposed to be here. I should have fought the rhinos instead of Hama. I should be down there, right now, watching his back. I shouldn't be here doing _nothing _and watching."

She pauses. "Did you ever think that maybe you would distract him down there?"

It takes a moment, but a sudden memory flashes to my mind and my hand finds the scar on my cheek.

_"Maybe you should have practiced a bit more."_

_"Just be quiet and sit still," _he had ordered._ "You're distracting me."_ There was a pause, I remember. And then he said it again. _"You're distracting me."_

I stand up without realizing it and search the arena until I see Zuko standing in one of the entrances, waiting for the cannon. A question lingers in my mind, one I so desperately wanted an answer to those many months ago when he left me in that tree.

But he is so far away from me that he can't answer even if I scream it at the top of my lungs. As though hearing my thoughts, I see him look up, and though it's impossible to tell for sure, I think he sees me.

The cannon echoes loudly in my ears. I want to cover them, to try to block out the screaming and the sound I will forever associate with death, but instead I keep my eyes focused on Zuko as he sprints into the arena.

The first thing I notice, oddly, is that he is no longer wearing the gold armor, but instead a lighter armor that is black and deep red trimmed in gold. I can see why as he dodges a blow from Akita, who is another Firebender. He is able to move swiftly and retaliate with full force. Bowen has been sent in at least five gifts already and is taking his time deciding which to open, as though he has all the time in the world and a battle isn't happening right behind him. Zuko shoots fire into the ground, and rotates his hands, moving the fire in a circular pattern like water. The dust gets wrapped up in the fire and soon there is nothing but swirling fire and dust and smoke, obscuring the arena. It creates such haze that I wonder if it was deliberate to make it harder for everyone to see.

_Smart, Your Highness._

But then suddenly a very loud, very familiar roar shakes the arena and stills my heart completely.

The hazy effect is blown away with a blast of fire. The crowd screams and shouts in alarm. Hands fly to their faces to protect themselves from the dust. I'm too high to be hit, but I still feel the heat and force of the blast.

Another roar. The sound is so horrifyingly familiar that I sit down and grip the rail, as though that will somehow keep me safer. My bones rattle with every step the dragon takes into the arena. It's a huge beast, tall enough to step from the ground to the first level without trying. Scaled with green and brown and talons thick and bronze. It's tail is long and covered with huge bronze spikes. I can't deny that it's a beautiful creature, even if frightening, but I wouldn't want to catch the back of it's tail. The eyes though…they are milky, glassy even, as though it is of old age or has not seen light in years.

At first I wonder why it isn't flying, but then I notice it's leathery wings—they are tied together, and it's foot is chained to something hidden in the entrance it came from. The tributes have backed away. I see Zuko yelling something at them, Bowen nodding his head but not taking his eyes from the dragon.

My heart breaks for the creature as it looks around the arena confusedly. The crowd is wild now, making it even worse for the dragon. Out of rage, or possibly annoyance, it snarls and swings it's tail at the tributes. Bowen reacts first and punches at the ground, using the earth to send all four of them backwards. Zuko, along with the others, fly through the air and crash against the ground.

Bowen gets to his feet first. He must have received a ton of rocks and boulders because he sends one right at the beast's head. The dragon shrieks in pain, the sound so shrill that the hairs on my arms stand up. The old woman, Iko, has gotten up slowly and is suddenly tugging on Bowen's arm. I have no idea what she's saying, but he's shaking his head and yelling something back at her.

Zuko runs toward the beast and, as it's head bends down to snap it's teeth at him, he slides underneath it's legs and disappears. Akita follows but is not quick enough. The dragon's teeth clip her by the long cape she is wearing. With a causal flick of it's neck, the dragon flings Akita into the air. She screams, flailing—and the beast catches her in it's mouth and swallows her. It's like a terrible bedtime story Sokka might have told to scare me before sleep.

The cannon fires. The dragon doesn't seem to like it, because it cowers and shakes it's huge head and starts to charge into the crowd. Everyone screams, some even start jumping out of their seats, but the Elites pull out their whips and slash the creature into submission. I don't notice until now, but there are Elites stationed all around the ground of the arena. The dragon cowers away from the fire, backing up. It tries to fly, but doesn't get so much as two inches off the ground. Frustrated, it charges toward Bowen and Iko. Bowen raises an arm and levitates a rock in midair, dangling it in front of the dragon. It takes a moment for the dragon to see it, but it spikes his curiosity enough that his focus shifts to the floating rock instead of Bowen. With all the dust that has flown up I can't even see Zuko through it. I see the soft glow of fire though, somewhere in the haze. What is he doing?

With his other arm, Bowen shifts the ground so the dragon loses it's balance. In doing so, the dragon's tail whips around so fast that Bowen could not possibly see it coming. But Iko does. Standing so close to him, she is able to leap in danger's way.

The tail strikes her hard in the chest and sends her flying backwards. Bowen is thrown onto the ground, his head snapping in the direction of Iko. But then the dragon gives a shriek and turns, and that's when I see Zuko emerging out from the haze, dragging the heavy chain with strained effort. I look at the dragon's foot. The beast is no longer attached to it. Zuko must have burnt the chain off.

Bowen looks between the prince and the old woman, who is bleeding out fast and nearly dead. She isn't moving, but a cannon hasn't went off yet. He seems to make up his mind and rushes after the prince. But not before he pulls out a dagger and hurls it at Iko. It strikes her in the chest, right in the heart. I can't help the scream that comes out of my throat and my hand flies to my mouth. The cannon goes off, echoing the shocked sounds from around me.

Just like that, two are gone. I can't believe what Bowen just did—only, I think I might know why. His shot was so perfect, so accurate, that I think he might have been trying to end her pain.

Zuko is keeping the dragon back with fire, but doesn't seem keen on burning it alive. Maybe it's because the dragon is old, or isn't fighting but trying to defend itself, I don't know. I don't know enough about dragon breeds but this one just wants to escape, that much I can tell.

Zuko and Bowen are exchanging words, or maybe yelling at each other I don't know, but Bowen eventually gets the chain and starts to bend it, weaving it around the dragon's neck and mouth so it's tied up. The beast protests, shaking and stomping and flinging it's tail around—Zuko actually flattens on his back to narrowly miss the blow.

Bowen leaps onto the dragon's back, holding the chain, and pulls with his bending. The beast drops to the ground, choking from the tightness of the chain. The dragon must know it has been defeated, because it doesn't try to get up or fight this time. It just lays there, breathing heavily. Zuko stands at the front of it in a fighting stance, his hands ready to deliver the final blow. Only he pauses.

But that pause seems to last forever and only a second all at once. His arms shift and move with a fluid movement. Lightning bursts from his fingertips and strikes the beast in the heart. Bowen leaps off just in time. The dragon is hit so quickly, so lethally, that it dies almost instantly. Like Iko, I'm not even sure it felt the pain of the final blow.

The crowd erupts into applause and screaming. Even Joo Dee is out of her seat, clapping and shouting. I want to throw myself over the railing and rush out into the arena just to throw my arms around him. To feel that he is alive, because my mind is convincing me that it isn't over. But it is. _It is._ Zuko and Bowen and my team—they all made it past the first round.

Zuko and Bowen are bloodier than Pakku or Hama was, covered in clotted dirt and earth, but when Zhao holds up their hands, the crowd screams like they are the most wonderful thing they have ever seen. Zuko and Bowen both look exhausted, like they are barely able to stand on two feet. I can only imagine the strength that went into taking down a dragon. Zuko keeps his gaze focused near the ground, and I can see the shame in the set of his shoulders.

His eyes suddenly flick up. Even in a sea of thousands of faces, our eyes meet across the distance. I try to smile because he is alive and it isn't goodbye today, and I will get my necklace back and he can have his crown. I think he tries to smile back, only we both feel the pain of what had to happen today, and neither one of us is really able to smile. But I try anyway.

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**A/N:** Thanks for reading! Action scenes take me forever to write and this chapter is like all action so that, no top of real life stuff, made this chapter tough to finish. I hope you liked it. :D I will respond to character questions soon, promise!

Review Responses:

**"Don't let Bowen Die! Or Zuko! Or Katara! Or anyone!" **- I've gotten a lot of requests about avoiding deaths lol. Let me reassure you that I don't kill characters for fun or just because I can. I only do it if the story calls for it and it needs to happen. There are some characters that I know will die, and some that I know will survive. Some are still up in the air, depending on how the story goes. The major points of this story I have planned, but sometimes the story takes a mind of it's own and I go with it. (Like Zuko taking the crown into the arena was not originally planned, but his death was.) So what I'm saying is that, I hope it reassures you a little to know that all deaths will be for the sake of the plot, not because I'm cruel like that. :P I think all deaths should have a reason and not done just because an author can.

**IsleofSolitude: "I love the way you show the relationships between everyone, not just Zutara (although I'm totally biased normally."** - Thank you! I really wanted to show Katara's relationships with different people, not just one with a love interest. :) Same goes with the other characters. They have such unique relationships with one another that I didn't want to leave that out.

**"At first I thought that Bowen was going to have an Annie-like girlfriend, but it seems you have given that role to his mother. Kudos!"** - It's funny because when I first came up with the idea of Bowen, it was to replace Sokka as comic relief. But as I started working on his background, it become more and more complex. Now he has his own storyline and everything, haha. I'd say his mother is more unstable than Annie was, but I can see how people make that connection. :) The inspiration wasn't so much Annie's character, but a character that Bowen felt responsible for, loved, and took care of. Much like Finnick does with Annie.

**July'sStories: "Hello! I wanna say You Are The Best Writer Of Ever. I am from Italy and here your story is popular."** - Thank you so much! And greetings to Italy. :) I've never been there but I'm dying to go! My dad went a few months ago and still talks about the food lol.

**AnimeTrance: "I couldnt wait for the new chapter after 20. Glad your feeling better after your flu"** - Thank you! The flu was quite sucky lol. Then I got hit with a sinus infection a few weeks later. Ugh. Hopefully I'm sick free for awhile! Glad you liked the chapter. (And thanks to everyone who wished me well after recovering from the flu!)

**xjustmexx: "like I said before, and im sure that people dont necessary need to like avatar or zutara to love this story, because its just that good on its own :p I really think that its impressing that you can do something like that :)"** - Italy AND Belgium? Super cool! I'm so glad you are enjoying the story, and thank you! I was very nervous when I first published because I had no idea what people would think about it. :P

**Shamu: "This is the best fanfiction ever, and you inspire me to write."** - Wow thank you! I think hearing that I've inspired someone is one of the best compliments I can recieve. :) I wish you luck with your writing!

**LifeForce95: "(Such as Katara commenting that the Elites' technique is to emotionally drain the tributes before the duel - is this a reference to what happened to Cinna"** - You know, I hadn't thought of that parallel when I wrote it! But we can pretend I was smart like that, haha.

**IvyZee: "I have a inkling that Zuko and Bowen will fight in the final Agni Kai..."** - Well, with the way the bracket is set up, they will have to duel eachother next round since they were the winners of the first one. :P

**Iguzick: "How long does it usually take to add a new chapter? Would you consider doing a bonus chapter of Zuko when he found Katara bleeding in the hallway?"** - Usually takes me about 2 weeks, but lately it's taken a little longer. :P I might do some bonus scenes once this story is finished! Are there other scenes that you guys would like to see?

**Kaleidsokopik: "I don't even like the Hunger Games. Yet this story - journey, really - has managed to play on my heart in ways that only my very favorite books have ever managed before."** - Wow thank you! I have to admit the idea behind this story wasn't because I loved THG, but because I really liked the idea of it and thought it would work in the ATLA world. :P So glad you like it!

**aubidino: "was the always inspired by harry potter?"** - No, even though HP is like my obsession, but I used it because I think "always" is one of those words that packs a lot of meaning very simply.

**smileyluvstwilight: "However, I was wondering of Bowen has any 'feelings' for Katara, or is it just part of his flirting nature?!"** - Lol I find it more exciting to let you all wonder. Plus, part of writing in one POV is not knowing how everyone else feels. If Bowen has feelings for Katara, or doesn't, you'll know the moment Katara does. :)

**eehyuk: "I'm really excited. THE ACTION. Sits with popcorn and Fire Nation snacks...I'm as bad as the Capital citizens..."-** Bahaha.

**ellelle: "I'd like to ask Iroh what he thinks caused his brother to become the cruel man he is today, and if Iroh thinks that maybe ther was something he himself could have done to change that**" - This, and more on Ozai, will all be answered in the story. :) Probably in the third part, as Ozai plays a larger role in that.

**Sonja Schreiber: "I love your characterization of everyone and how your story dedicates so much love and attention to secondary characters."** - Thank you! Always love for secondary characters. :) I think they are just as important as the main ones.

**Aaliyah92: "I'm curious are the updates going to go back to once a month?"** - Hopefully not! I'm shooting for twice a month. We're reaching the end of this story so all the details have to be right. That, plus all the action, takes me a little more time. Hopefully no more getting sick because that really puts me behind. Blah.


	23. Healer

**A/N:** This chapter has been updated as of 4-22-13-meaning it is the full chapter, not the April Fool's one. :) Enjoy!

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**Chapter 23 - Healer**

I know I should probably watch the final three duels, but my mind isn't here anymore. It's traveled to the infirmary, where Pakku, Hama, Zuko and the others are being treated. The duels are being recorded and I've been told all mentors will receive a copy to study tactics and strategy. Besides, didn't Joo Dee advise me to visit my tributes?

"I'm going to visit the infirmary," I say to her, as the fourth is about to begin. I point to the pad she's holding. "Write down anything that might be good to know. I'll watch the recordings, but we need all the help we can get."

"I know nothing about battle techniques," she says, eyes wide.

"Well, I do," says June. "It's not hard to tell who the best fighter is."

Joo Dee looks offended for some reason, and soon the two start their usual bickering. I leave them before I feel compelled to jump into the argument.

There is another Guard outside our box and he escorts me to the infirmary. We don't talk as we pass through the cold, dimly lit corridors, but the silence is comfortable, which shocks me than I expect. I don't know quite what to think about the Guards here at the Capital. They don't harass me, or try to trip me as I walk by. Are they like this with everyone in Province One, or is it only because I'm a victor now?

The Guard leaves me at the infirmary without a word. Two stationed outside the double doors push them open for me to go inside. I'm immediately hit with pleasant heat, a crackling fire burning at the far end of the large, rectangular room. Flickering candles along the walls cast a soft glow against the cold stone. The rest of the room leaves much to be desired. Small, plain beds are lined around the room, most of them hidden behind bed curtains for privacy. There is no color in the room, nothing besides the fire to give any warmth.

I stand in the entrance a moment, staring at one of the beds on my right. I wish the curtains had been drawn back, because there lays Bin, his face covered in blood, his chest not moving. No healer by his side. His body is just here, as though he were in a dreamless sleep. Nobody seems to care that a young dead boy is lying in this bed. The healers just continue to shuffle around, carrying bandages and ointments and water among other supplies. I wonder where his mother is, and my heart breaks that families are not allowed to see their loved ones until their bodies are shipped back to their province.

"Do not block the entrance," a healer snaps at me. "Any moment more will be filing in. Get to your tribute or get out!"

"I'm looking for Master Pakku and Hama of Province 9," I say to her. She turns back to face me, impatience burning in her eyes. I can see why, with how many bottles she's carrying.

"They are not here."

"What, why?" I ask in alarm.

The healer huffs with impatience. "They passed the check-up examination and do not require further medical attention. They were sent back to their rooms."

_Prison cells_, I correct bitterly in my head. "But I have their tokens—how did they receive medical attention at all?"

The healer looks offended suddenly. "All tributes are to be examined after the duels. We recommend further treatment."

Obviously I mixed up _that_ bit of information. Maybe I should have asked Joo Dee more about all the details. "Sorry, I wasn't aware of that."

"Clearly you are not aware of much, are you?"

"Oh, leave her alone, Lady Rina. Do not stress your lovely face so much." I turn to find a shirtless Bowen, a large bandage wrapped around his torso. The healer—Lady Rina—blushes furiously at the sight of him. She can't be older than forty, and her face shows signs of once being quite beautiful. Whether from stress, age or fatigue, she looks very tired and worn down, her eyes empty and colorless.

"You should be resting, Master Bowen," she says, looking anywhere but at him.

"I have a very high level of endurance, you know."

Lady Rina's face flushes further and she mumbles something under her breath before walking away, her long ivory skirts flowing behind her like rippling water. I watch her back a moment before finally looking at Bowen.

"I don't even want to know," I say to him.

"No, probably not. Don't let her age fool you though. She's quite the little—"

"Please stop," I beg him, holding up a hand. My eyes shut, as though I can block out the sudden mental images, but it doesn't help. They're already there. "There's enough in this room to make me throw up already."

He laughs, and then grimaces. A soft pink shows through the bandages. Soon it will need to be changed. "Stupid dragon," he complains.

"I didn't realize you got hurt." I have a sudden urge to examine his wound but refrain myself.

"So did your prince." My eyes widen in alarm and immediately search the room. As though reading my thoughts, Bowen adds, "He's not here. He requested a healer in his room."

"Because it's that bad," I say in a hollow voice.

"No, I think he just doesn't want to be around the crowd. My wound is far greater so if you want to play healer, here I am." He lifts his arms slightly, his mouth twitching into a grin.

I laugh and follow him to his bed. Slowly he drops down and sits at the edge, fighting a grimace.

"Where's your mentor?" I ask.

"Around."

I roll my eyes at his typical evasiveness. "Why don't you use one of your gold tokens? I'm sure you have hundreds."

"It's not that bad, or worth using," he says. "It's just a flesh wound. The salve will heal it in about two days."

"What caused it?" I hesitate a moment, then say, "And Zuko, what happened to him?"

"Damn scales. They're sharp as knives. We both took a beating taking it down." Bowen slowly unwraps the bandages. It's so thick that I don't see the blood until he gets near the end. I fight back a shriek when I see the wound. It's blistered and blackish red, a sticky substance coating the flesh.

"It looks infected!" I half shout. "Did they even clean it first? I think you really need a Waterbender. It's the only way to really cleanse infection."

"Good thing I have one then." He leans forward and pulls the curtain around the last bit so we're isolated from the rest of the infirmary. Then he reaches down and pulls a gold token from his pocket. He holds it up in front of his face.

Understanding dawns on me. "No, I can't—I'm not a healer," I say, panicking.

"This token is good for one Waterbender. You are one, aren't you?"

"You know I can't heal." I can't stop the helplessness from my voice, or the painful memories from entering my mind, reminding me of how I failed, over and over.

"I know you can't if you never try." His green eyes are uncharacteristically serious. "You can't give up because you failed a few times, Kat."

"I failed when it mattered most," I say, hating the way my voice breaks, the tears starting to well up in my eyes. I blink them away quickly.

"I fail my mom every day by not finding a cure," he says quietly. "You were the one who said not to give up on her, and she's more of a lost cause than you are. You can't hang on to past failures, Kat, or you'll stay trapped there forever." He nudges me under the chin with the token. "Go on, try. You have nothing to lose."

I look back at his wound, and the healer in me wants to help. All my life I've felt a strong desire to heal when I see someone hurt. Not even necessarily with Waterbending, but any way I can. I just hate seeing someone in pain when there might be something I can do to help.

There is a glass of water on his nightstand. Not enough to heal the wound completely, but enough to help. I take the token hesitantly and run my fingers over it. "I shouldn't take this from you though."

"We're following the rules this way," says Bowen. "You might need it more than me anyway."

"For some reason you don't seem like the type of person who cares about following rules," I say, glancing up with a smile.

"I'm working on it, trying to lead an honest life and all that." I don't really believe him, but I'm amused all the same. "Now, come on. Heal me."

"It's not that simple."

"You brought someone back to _life_, Kat. I have complete faith that you can heal a flesh wound."

"That was different," I protest. "The water was blessed, sacred. And Zuko…"

A pause. "Pretend I'm him then," he says.

"I don't think it works like that," I say sadly. "I loved Sokka more than almost anyone in this world and I couldn't…I couldn't save him."

"Would he want you to give up, or keep trying?"

I say nothing, but the answer is obvious. Sokka always believed in me, believed I could do anything if I put my mind to it. Even if I failed nine times out of ten, he'd never want me to stop trying. Not even if he was involved with one of those nine times.

"Okay," I say finally, pocketing the gold token. "I'll try." I reach over and grab the glass. My hand starts to shake. "What will happen if a real healer walks in?"

"Nothing. My assigned healer is in fact Lady Rina, and I know enough of her secrets for her not to question mine. And technically, the rules state that a gold token pays for a Waterbender. It doesn't specify _healer_."

I wonder how many secrets Bowen has hidden, locked away in his mind. "I think healer of the Capital is implied."

"In my experience an implied message can be a very dangerous thing."

"Shh, I'm trying to concentrate." I pour the cup of water and feel the usual tug in my naval as it hits my hand, the familiar feeling of summoning and controlling water. "Straighten your back."

He does and I press the water to his wound. He flinches a little at the coldness. Closing my eyes, I try to ignore all the voices shouting about my failures in my head. I think of water in it's true form, how it adapts and changes. I think of Zuko, how I did something no one else has ever done by bringing him back to life with water. I think of Bowen's words, of his belief in me that I can do this. And I think of Sokka. I can almost see him smiling in the back of my mind, a knowing sort of smile, like the ones I used to see growing up whenever I did something he knew I could do all along.

"Kat, look," Bowen whispers through a sharp breath.

I do, and nearly jump back in alarm. My hand glows bright blue, not quite as bright as it did when I healed Zuko, but a healer's bright. Slowly, I move my hand over his wound. It's a strange feeling, like part of my being is not necessarily being leaked from me, but shared. Bowen is very still as he watches, his head bent, black hair shielding his eyes. When I finish, I pull my hand back and drop the water back into the glass. The brightness fades back to clear.

"You did it," Bowen breaths. He stares at me, his eyes wide with awe and surprise. He's tall enough that we're at eye level, even with him sitting down. I don't realize how close we are until this moment. My hands drop awkwardly at my side.

"Yeah, I guess I did." His lips part into a small smile and I almost return it when a thought occurs to me. "What if I can't do it again?"

He shrugs gently, like his shoulders are sore—which, probably, they are. "Then you just keep trying."

Someone tries to pull open the bed curtain, but Bowen leans forward and yanks it closed. They don't try again, but I feel antsy all the sudden. Looking around, I notice what looks like a clean shirt, only it's wadded on the floor. I bend down to scoop it up and toss it at him.

"Put some clothes on, will you?"

He tilts his head to the side and smirks. "Am I making you uncomfortable?"

"No, just irritated," I say.

Laughing, he pulls the shirt over his head. He looks odd in such a plain shirt, especially since it's the color of bone, a stark contrast to his usual black. "More will be coming in," he says. "You might want to go before that."

It's already starting to sound louder around me, as healers rush around the infirmary. I nod at Bowen and grab the curtain. Hesitating, my hand lingers on the fabric. "Thank you," I say quietly.

"Shouldn't I be thanking you?" he says with a laugh. "I didn't do anything."

"You gave me the push I needed," I argued. "Maybe I'll never heal again, but at least I know I've done it—that I can do it again, maybe." There is a long pause. I can't quite pull back the curtain. Something else is bothering me, has been bothering me in the back of mind ever since the round was over.

"You both won," I say quietly. "You will have to duel each other next." When Bowen says nothing, I turn around, facing him. He's watching me curiously.

"You're very protective of him," he says finally. My jaw clenches and I look away. I start to deny it, but Bowen says, "It's not a bad thing, Kat." Then, more quietly, "We're only human. We can't help but be protective of the ones we love."

The Guards at the doors don't let me leave until they find two to escort me back to the tribute cells. I don't protest, considering I've had my throat slit in the dark and there are so many people in this prison that I wouldn't be shocked if someone tries to attack me. I don't have any water, but I've got Zuko's dagger hidden in my robes. Still, the presence of the Guards is both reassuring and troubling—troubling because of the fact that it _reassures_ me, even if only a little. Since when did I ever feel anything other than hatred and fear towards a Guard?

Meng immediately comes to mind, but I reason with myself that she's an exception to the rest of the Guards.

I consider going to Pakku and Hama first, but by the time I've thought it out my feet are already planted outside Zuko's cell. The Guard opens the door before I can request it. I'm taken aback, thinking I was going to have to argue my way through the door. I wasn't sure if other visitors were allowed after the duels. But I'm not really a visitor, am I? Mentor is still a new title for me.

When I step into the cell I'm filled with so much relief the moment I see Zuko that I almost run to him and leap into his arms on instinct. But quickly I realize he and Iroh seem to be having an argument. Iroh is as calm as ever, but the gesturing of his hands shows his frustration. Zuko is still in his gear, looking ragged and bloody and in desperate need of a healer. He looks exhausted perched up against the wall, as though it's the only thing holding him up.

They both look at me in the same instant, and silence falls.

"I—I can come back later," I stammer out, but my feet feel resistant in moving.

"No, please stay, Katara," says Iroh. "Perhaps my nephew will listen to your sense, as he seems fit to ignore mine."

Zuko groans. "No, she's worse than you."

"Worse?" Offended, my hands fly to my hips. "What do you mean, _worse_?"

Iroh looks very unhappy. Glaring at Zuko, he says, "You have some ridiculous idea that you must bear pain alone, without reparation. And I will not watch you do it." With that he places his hands in his sleeves and leaves the prince, standing there in silence. Iroh gives me a little bow and leaves the cell.

Slightly stunned, a full minute or two passes before I figure out what's going on. It takes everything in me not to scold him.

"You refuse to see a healer," I say, irritated but unsurprised.

"Shouldn't you be watching the other duels?"

"I'll watch the recordings," I say. "I should be exactly where I am."

Zuko says nothing.

"Why would you refuse a healer?" I demand, as calmly as I can.

"I don't need one."

"Why are you so stubborn?" This time my voice does sound scolding, but I don't care. "Other tributes would give their left arm for the number of gold tokens you have!"

He looks up, his gold eyes flaring. "I'm fine," he snaps at me.

"Oh really? Is wearing blood soaked clothes a new style then?" I gesture towards his clothes with a wave of my hand. When he says nothing, I walk over to him with the intention of forcing him to sit down, but I only get a few feet away when he reaches out and grabs my wrist, halting me.

"I said I don't need a healer, Katara," he says. "I have a week to recover before the next duel."

"Why is it so hard for you to let others take care of you?"

He looks away, but not before I catch the small flash of pain in his eyes. "People leave. They die. They don't come back. You can't…rely on anyone but yourself."

My heart fills with sadness. He doesn't say it, doesn't mention her name, but I can't help but feel this attitude can only mean one thing. "What happened to her?" I ask softly.

A long pause. In the quiet, I hear the rumbling of the crowd, of the fighting that is taking place above us.

"She didn't come back," Zuko says finally.

He drops to the bed without another word. The curiosity surrounding his mother tears at me but I don't push him. When he wants to tell me, if ever, he will. Prying it out of him is like pouring salt into a gaping wound.

"Will you at least let me look at you?" Hesitating, I add, "I healed today."

Zuko glances up at me, his eyes widening. "What? When?"

"I went to the infirmary and ran into Bowen. He asked me to try to heal him. And I—I did it." I can't keep the pride out of my voice. "I mean, I didn't heal him completely, but it's much better now than it was. It's a start."

To my surprise, Zuko's eyes darken. "You shouldn't have healed him. You aren't a healer of the Capital. Do you know how much trouble you could be in?"

"That isn't the reaction I expected," I say, crossing my arms and openly glaring at him.

"What did you expect?" He sits up a little higher in his bed. "That I'd be happy you continue to put yourself in danger?"

"I'd hardly call _healing_ putting myself into danger."

Zuko closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. His pale knuckles look cracked and bloody. When he opens his eyes again, he somehow looks more tired and drained, like I'm physically demanding on him. "You have no idea, Katara. No idea of anything."

"Well, neither do you!" I shout at him, not caring how lame it sounds. Maybe he's right, partially, because I too felt uneasy healing Bowen. But it's not really dangerous! Bowen gave me a gold token anyway. I don't regret it at all. I wouldn't regret it if I had gotten caught. I _healed_ someone, and that is worth the consequences.

"Your eagerness to help others is going to get you killed," Zuko says quietly.

"And your refusal to let others help _you_ is going to get _you_ killed," I fire back.

"Well, I guess we're both doomed," he says bitterly.

"What's new?"

Zuko shakes his head, a small, rare smile almost forming on his lips. He sits up—I take a step back—and starts shrugging out of his tunic. He moves slowly, struggling, and I force myself not to help. If he wants to be stubborn and suffer, fine by me.

Only it isn't fine when I see his chest. It's marred with slashes, a few bruises, and looks like he's been raked over fire coals. And there is my necklace around his wrist, looking ashen but otherwise unharmed. The weight of his crown in my bag feels a hundred times heavier all of the sudden.

"Please let me do something," I whisper.

"I won't let you heal me," he says, just as quiet. "The risk…these wounds aren't worth it." _Oh, but they are. To me, they always are_. "It may not seem like a big deal to you but I know my father and Zhao, and how they…uphold rules." His voice drops hollowly, as though recalling something terrible.

Remembering the flash of hot pain against my wrists, of the Fire Lord's "mercy," I can't argue. "Then let me get a healer for you," I say desperately. "If not for yourself, then for your uncle. He loves you and choosing to suffer is a cruel thing to do to him."

The prince bows his head and silence falls. I reach out and grab his wrist, gently running a finger over the blue pendant. "I knew you'd bring it back," I murmur.

"You made me promise."

I smile, just a little. "Then I guess I'll have to make you promise every time."

He almost smiles back. Then he leans back and closes his eyes. I ache to reach out and heal him, to clean his wounds like I would have in the Games. "He's a good fighter," Zuko says reluctantly. "Better than I've given him credit for. He'll be a tough opponent."

The inevitable next round. There is no way to avoid thinking about it. I wish they'd just make a deal to put on a show for the crowd, let someone "lose," and both move on to the next round. But I think the crowd voting for one of their deaths is higher than either of them agreeing to lose. Which is saying something for their pride, because there is no way the crowd would choose for their deaths.

Zuko finally gives in and lets me get a healer. The Guards do not seem happy taking an order for me, even when I'm ordering for the prince. To her credit, the healer doesn't stare at me or act like it's odd that I'm here. She's nice enough, and thorough, healing all of Zuko's wounds. I feel useless just standing here watching, but I can't argue that she didn't do a better job than I could have done.

The corridors are growing louder, and so is the noise from above. I wonder if all the rounds are over. I know I should be getting back soon and feel a rush of guiltiness that I haven't gone to see Pakku and Hama yet. They might have looked uninjured, but it was a long view from where I was sitting.

"Your wounds are clean of infection, Your Highness," says the healer, addressing the prince. "You might be sore for the next few hours as your body continues to heal. I suggest a warm bath and rest."

Zuko thanks the healer, hands her a gold token, and dismisses her. She frowns at the door when she sees him sit up and throw his legs over the side of the bed. Knowing I should be leaving too, I reach into my satchel and pull out the crown. Walking over to the side of his bed, I hand it out to him. "Here," I say.

He stares at it a moment, but the moment seems to drag forever. He reaches out and his fingers curl around mine. Then he pushes the crown to my chest. "No," he says. "Keep it. If something happens to me, pass it along to my uncle."

He lets go to start undoing my necklace. I reach down and stop him. "Then you must keep this, too."

"Katara, this was your mother's." He looks up and his eyes are full of emotion—pain, longing, sadness. "It can burn in the arena, or fall off. It can be _destroyed_. I'll never forgive myself if something happened to it."

Part of me wants to take it back and place it around my neck. I know he's right, and if something happened to it I would be devastated. But another part of me believes he will protect it entirely, because that's what he does. He protects.

I flip his wrist over and retighten the necklace gently. The healer's water seems to have cleaned it from ash and soot. It looks completely untarnished.

"When this is all over, you will give it back to me, and only you," I say, my gaze focused on the blue fabric. "And then I will give you back your crown."

"And if I die in the Duels?" he challenges softly. "If it's burned?"

_My heart will already be burning._

I lean down, close enough that my lips brush his cheek. "If you die, it will all be for nothing."

* * *

Later that night I watch the recordings of the duels I missed. We are allowed a small screen in our cell to review them. Pakku and Hama scraped by with minimal wounds, as I had hopefully expected. Hama is banged up a little, but nothing some water can't heal. There is no rule against Waterbenders healing themselves.

The fourth, fifth and sixth duels are bloody and violent. The first time I watch them, I can't focus on anything but the pain I feel when I watch the deaths. Dock, so innocent and friendly, is killed by Chong Li viciously with fire. He kills Yuko next. This happens before the Elites send in the beasts. Xin Fu and Chong Li then work together and take down a pack of armadillo wolves. The wolves put up a good fight, but they are afraid of the fire, and that gives Chong Li a huge advantage. They kill them all.

I am impressed by Sage's fighting, even more so with how she battles Chit Sang. Both advance to the next round, eventually holding out long enough for platypus bears to feast on the other two tributes. They literally rip Meeko's body until there is nothing but bone, and Sanyu is dragged around the arena brutally. The platypus bears are one of the most dangerous creatures I've seen, with impressive strength and size. I don't want to cross one.

Chit Sang tries to fight off the bears, but Sage is smart. There are only two of them, and she tricks one into fighting the other. Once one of the bears is killed, Sage and Chit Sang are able to take it down.

The last round looks, at first, like it will be easy. No giant creatures. No man eating bears. But the prickle snakes move like lightning and strike just as quickly. The snakes can't be longer than a foot or two, but their skin changes to adapt to their surroundings, making it nearly impossible to see.

The first major upset of the Duels happens when Lia—ranked 6th overall—trips at the wrong time, and is bitten by multiple snakes. Her mentor sends in some medicine to stop the poison, but it spreads too quickly. Her mouth foams, her eyes bleed, and she convulses on the ground until she's dead. Mina from 10 and Tyro from 8 advances.

Pakku and Hama eventually have to leave our cell and go back to theirs. I watch the Duels over and over until I'm able to emotionally detach myself from the loss and the pain. I watch the winners, watch how they move, watch their strengths and weaknesses. I purposely ignore Zuko's duel, and Joo Dee doesn't question it. We watch and take notes until the Guards take away the screen and Watcher. Even though we have a week before the next round, I can't help but feel the overwhelming sense of dread. I'm not ignorant enough to ignore the possibility of death, but I just can't let that happen to the people I love.

We stay up late into the night, talking in the dark, preparing for what's to come. When Joo Dee eventually drifts to sleep, and my eyes feel too heavy to keep open, I let myself give up for the night. I fall into a troubled sleep, dreaming of crowns and fire and the color blue. The last thing I see is a flash of faces that I can't save from the oncoming darkness.

* * *

**A/N:** Okay, I hope you all enjoyed the April Fool's fun. :) If you missed it, or want to re-read it in the future, you can find this original chapter in my drabble series, Rubik's Cube. So no fears, it's not lost forever! Hope you enjoyed the chapter!

Survivors after Round 1:

Vachir

Hama

Pakku

Gyatso

Zuko

Bowen

Chit Sang

Sage

Chong Li

Xin Fu

Mina

Tyro

Review Responses:

**LesMiserElla: "What inspired you to write this series?"** - Like you, I wasn't a huge fan of The Hunger Games. I have a lot of issues with it, actually. The romance being a huge one. What inspired me however was the _concept_ behind THG. It seemed like something that could happen in the ATLA world, with the Fire Nation behind it. Plus there are so many badass fighters in ATLA, ones that are conveniently from around the world, that I wanted to see how a story would go if this HG-like event happened every year. :)

**"Do Bowen and Katara have a ship name?"** - I saw a variation of this question but can't remember what chapter the person asked, or who asked. But anyway, it seems to be Botara. :P

**MHZutaraFanGirl: "I feel like an idiot, but I just noticed the fact that you took characters from ATLA who were minor and turned them into fully fledged people."** - Haha, I kind of had to. Everyone else is dead! But seriously, I was both excited and nervous about bringing the secondary characters more into the spot light. I wasn't sure if people would be turned off with most of the leads from ATLA being gone. But I've really enjoyed making the secondary characters primary ones in this. I hadn't done that before. :)

**"I kinda think Bowen may be a better match for Katara than Zuko. -ducks behind wall- DO not kill me, Zutarians! I support Zutara, too."** - Lol! All ships are welcome in my harbor. :D I'm curious why you think he's a better match. Not that I disagree or agree! I'm just curious. :D I'll talk more about him, Katara and Zuko when the story is over, so I don't give away any spoilers here.

**xDoubleU: "I'd like to admit that I often hate OCs since most of the time, they're annoying and not well-developed; however, I'll repeat myself and say that you've done a great job with your OCs."** - Thank you so much! I usually don't care for OC's either, though I've read some that I adored. I've tried to only incorporate OC's into the story that I thought served a purpose, rather than just throw them in there for kicks. :P (Super cool you are from Saudia Arabia! I've never been there..it's quite far from me! haha)

**Renya: "I like how you balance Katara's emotions , the fact that she never stays depressed for long."** - I can't tell you how much I appreciate that, lol. I think one of the hardest parts about writing Katara in this story is her emotional balance. Obviously the games effected her, and I can't ignore that, or act like she'll just forget. But I also can't have her dwelling all the time either. It's a tough balance!

**bookworm: "Why is this rated M? Is it because of the battles?"** - I rated it M to be safe, because of the violence and some of the darker themes. There won't be any sex scenes or anything. Sorry guys, lol.

**Autumn Geek: "Please apparate in my room so I can hug you and fangirl over you immediately (I promise I'm not a creep)."** - Baha your review made my day. And I hope to publish a book someday! I just have to you know, focus on a story..right now I have too many floating in my head, lmao.

**BassBillionare: "I still don't know what happened to Toph. Will she be making an appearance soon or will I have to wait for the sequel"** - Yes, you will find out if Toph died or survived eventually. I'm not sure yet, because the right time hasn't really came into the picture. I know it's sort of unclear, but there will be a definite answer, either in this or the sequel.

**Zamarcia: "Does Bowen really sleep around with all those girls?"** - He sleeps around. lol

**UniqueFREAK2307: "Ever thought of being a writer for a profession?"** - Oh yes! That's my dream, really. I have ideas, but I haven't chosen one and stuck with it yet. I really want to write a book from an antagonist POV, but you know, a complex antagonist like Zuko. It's just so often the story is told from the hero.

**Britchiche: "I feel like it makes more sense for Zuko to be able to bend lightening here. He's a lot more calmer than in canon."** - Yeah, that was my thinking too. He's not _quite_ as conflicted and tormented here. Plus he's older, with two more years of practice under his belt. :D

**Guest: "Was a little surprised you had Zuko kill off a dragon or that the Fire Nation would do such a thing."** - There is a bit of backstory with the dragons, that I will get into eventually. :D Essentially though, they once considered them sacred, and some still do. Others fear them, others see themselves as superior when they are able to capture them, etc. The phoenix is what is still considered sacred.

**xMidnight Rose: "You coach? Basketball? Soccer? Fastpitch? Any of those?"** - Yep, basketball! 8th grade girls. :D Our school season is over, but now I'm coaching AAU. It's a lot of fun!

**WriterShade: "We know a lot of the men from the show, so it seems like they'll have a better shot at surviving"** - Yeah it's sort of the opposite from TBG. There aren't very many older female characters in ATLA, so I had to create a bunch of OC's haha.

**"Something else I wondered: that green, brown, and bronze dragon had Earth Kingdom colors and "milky eyes." Was that this story's equivalent of the muttations with human eyes? Because it sounded kind of like a dragon Toph."** - Lol! Sadly, no. The eyes are a reference to it's old age, and I chose earthy colors just to give some variety and not have all the dragons be red. :P

**ee hyuk: "Quicky: Wasn't Aang the last Airbender?"** - No, just technically the last Airbender in the BG after the opening bloodbath. I wrote that line as a play on words, mirroring the title of ATLA. :P There are two air temples in this series.

Character Q/A.

[I'm omitting spoiler questions, which can include (but not limited to) feeling-like questions. For example, a lot of people ask if Bowen has a crush on Katara. That's a question that can only be answered in the story, between Bowen and Katara; rather than between me and you guys. :P]

**For Katara**

"Aside from Sokka, if you could bring anyone back from the Black Games who would it be and why?" - Aang, because he was my first friend.

"How do you think your dad will react when he sees Zuko with your necklace?" - Shocked.

"why do you think zuko volenteered for his uncle?" - Because he loves him, obviously.

"how did you feel when you gave Zuko your mothers necklace?" - Sad, scared, nervous, hopeful.

"Do you often still think of Sokka?" - Every day.

**For Iroh**

"If you had become firelord would you have ended the black games?" - I like to think that I would have tried, yes.

"How do you think these Quarter Duels are going to turn out?" - I hope for the best for my nephew.

**For Ozai**

"do you have an inkling of remorse for sending your son back into the Games?" - Remorse is for the weak.

**For Zuko**

"How often does Katara cross your mind?" - I don't know..?

"Will you try to win for Katara or for your own good?" - I will try to win because I'm a fighter, and it would be an honor to win. (A/N: I also think Katara would feel..annoyed/irritated if Zuko claimed to win for her, like she was some trophy for his winning.)

"Was it a difficult decision to accept Katara's help and her token, despite not being on the best of terms at the moment?" - Yes

"Do you actually believe Katara, when she said that Bowen is one of the good guys?" - Good people can still make bad choices and do bad things.

"How does it feel to know that you could never see Katara again" - I will see her again.

"Are you jealous of Bowen and Katara?" - No!

"what is your fondest memory?" - I don't know. I don't have many.

"why did you give katara the crown?" - Because I trust her with it.

"What would you do if Katara's pendant got smashed in the Tournament?" - Never forgive myself.

"Do you feel any resentment towards Katara for having killed Azula?" - Sometimes, a little.

"Why didn't you give Katara a goodbye kiss?" - Because I wasn't saying goodbye.

**For Pakku**

"What are you fighting for other than your life in the quarter duels" - We all fight for our lives, but we also fight so we can live.

**For Lu Ten**

"What do you think of Katara and Zuko?" - Separately, or together?

**For Bowen**

"Do you think that Katara could possibly try to heal your mother?" - I doubt it. All the other healers have failed.

"What do you feel when Katara finds out about your Mum?" - Weary. Not many know about her.

"Do you ever resent the fact that Katara was able to bring back the person she loved while you still can't heal your mother?" - I don't resent someone for being able to save someone they love. I only resent myself because I keep failing to do it.


End file.
